


The Realm and The Throne

by Karenkk



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, yuzuvier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-26 00:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 58
Words: 119,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20733341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karenkk/pseuds/Karenkk
Summary: Yuzuru Hanyu would always remember the fateful day that he met Javier Fernández.His heart skipped a beat the first time he laid his eyes on him, the second prince of Canada.Disclaimer: This work is a pure fiction that is set in an alternative universe. The plot, organizations, countries, religions, politics, characters and their actions in the story are fictional only, they have no relation to the real world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would ever try to write a fantasy AU, I rarely even read fantasy novels/fics. But could hardly resist after seeing this tweet.
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  

> 
> This is not a Game of Thrones AU though. Yuzu isn't Dany. I'm not even sure where I'm going with the story. But Otonal 2.0 is absolutely stunning, and I just had to write something? All hail the King!

The morning air was fresh and warm, as sunlight shone on Yuzuru. He bathed in the summer heat, such stark contrast to the cold air in the dungeon that he was being kept for most of his 15 years on this realm. 

Rays of light danced on his bare skin, as he stood naked at the front an opened window. He took the moment to enjoy a rarity in his life, as the maids manhandled him. They were there to get him ready for his big day, treating him like a puppet that he had always made to be. He let them. Because at that moment, all he could hear was the birds chirping in the distance, all he could see was the flowers bloom outside. Everything was beautiful and so close to being within his reach. 

It was a moment of pure joy until Seiko Hashimoto took hold of his arm. Her long and perfectly manicured nails dug into his skin as hard as she could get away with. Their Empress wasn't kind, but it simply wasn't in her best interest to mar the merchandise on an important day like this. 

She dragged him away from the window, to a full-length mirror so he could see himself for the first time in a long time. He had looked taller and older than he remembered, but that was close to a year ago. Some of the baby fat had disappeared from his face. His once round eyes were now more almond-shaped, but still dark as the midnight sky. 

Finest silk and sateen imported from China, also known as the Central State, draped over him. Worth more than their weight in gold, these sheer fabrics scarcely concealed his lanky frame, long arms, and legs that he barely knew what to do with as he was recently hit with yet another growth spurt. Every inch of him was put on display - his soft pink nipples, tiny waist, and penis that lay dormant between his thighs. 

He was given less modesty than a yujo*, just because Empress Hashimoto was made to believe that people from the west placed no value over such thing, the exact opposite of the Japanese. And she would do anything to gain favor from the second prince of Canada. A kingdom that was known as the Land of Settlement, once upon a time. It used to be small town back in the days, but it had expanded rapidly across half of the continent as people from all kingdoms traveled to that distant land for a share of its rich resources. A country blessed with a seemingly endless supply of natural magic that fueled its economy and military.

Yuzuru caught his mother's eyes as he looked at her reflection through the mirror. Despite anger and humiliation that flashed across her delicate face, she didn't look away. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wipe away the tears that moistened her eyes. But either of them wanted to give Hashimoto that satisfaction. His lips curved humorlessly. Being weak meant being powerless, a lesson that either of them would soon forget.

This was the last remaining legacy of the great Yuzuru Hanyu, his namesake. His ancestor reigned over half of the world in his time. A legendary mage and kind-hearted Emperor who governed his subjects with power and kindness. But as time went by, the magic that blessed the bloodline became more dormant. Fewer and fewer decedents in each generation showed magical traits as the blood became increasingly diluted. His ancestors had tried to once again purify the bloodline through facilitating marriages within the Hanyu lineage, but it only produced Emperors and Empresses who were burdened with physical or mental impairments, until Yuzuru's great grandfather was overthrown by the Hashimoto family. His sister Saya was the first one in the last five decades to show any magical trait. A tiny spark of magic that burnt so brightly, until it ceased to. 

Just like the Hanyu family, the Hashimotos had done their own fair share of harm to their land. It only took three generations for Japan, the land of Rising Sun, to be pushed to the greatest height of prosperity, only to be driven into the ground. The royal family scouted the land for natural magic, left no stone unturned. They harnessed every ounce of magic that they could find to build what used to be the greatest empire on the Eastern hemisphere until they exhausted all resources. With the last mine being emptied out, their scholars had finally detected a change in seasonal cycles and understood what could mean for a country. 

Despite being the height of the summer, there was already a slight hint of coldness in the warm air, a warning sign for the imminent winter. Before long the days would get shorter and nights go for longer. No one truly knew the consequences of exhaustion of all natural magic, there were simply no formal record or documentation other than folklores about a once prosperous kingdom in a distant land came to their demise in a never-ending winter a long time ago. In the face of public outcry and plea, their Empress had no choice but try to acquire help from a potential ally, with the very last asset that might be worthy of anything. 

Expensive jewels were laid upon Yuzuru - sapphires of various shades adorned his body, as the maids commented on how they complimented his fair skin, jet black eyes and hair that reached the back of his waist and shined like the finest silk. He remained unmoved. They were nothing but tools to create an illusion of value, a facade of luxury and status.

When the sun reached the highest point in the sky, he was lead to the courtyard. In a secluded part of the palace, their Empress was already in deep conversation with their guest of honor, accompanied by a very small selection of servants and advisors. Yuzuru sighed with some degree of relief because he wasn't looking forward to being paraded around at front a much larger audience, stripped of his very last ounce of dignity. 

His heart skipped a beat the first time he laid his eyes on Javier Fernández, the second prince of Canada. He was so much taller than Yuzuru that he had to look up to gaze upon his face. Made of sharp cheekbones, strong jawlines, it was exotic and like nothing he had ever seen. His hair was cut short and brushed back. And yet he could still see the curls that softened such strong features. He was indeed very handsome like everyone had whispered. 

Yuzuru bowed, as expected of him. He offered a small smile as he straightened. It was polite, distant and very appropriate. And yet those chocolate-colored eyes that reminded him of soil after a long cold winter, rich, soft and full of life, shone with barely concealed disgust. Clearly, the prince was not pleased with what he was presented with. 

Yuzuru was soon led away, as he felt Seiko's heated gaze burning right through his barely existed clothing. It took far less time for the maids to strip him off all the expensive jewels and exotic materials, and threw his plain linen clothes next to his feet. He was soon returned to his dungeon, where light only shone through a tiny window for two hours each day.

The Empress had placed a bet and lost it embarrassingly. She had her eyes set on Canada's abundance of natural magic, her bet placed on Prince Fernández, a man rumored for having a proclivity for all things beautiful. He was considered an easier target then the Crown Prince Patrick Chan, who was very well known for his unpredictability and easy temper even across the ocean. She had hoped Prince Fernández would see some value in the last descendant of the Hanyu line, in exchange for enough natural magic to last the nation through the imminent winter.

Yuzuru supposed he wasn't worth much in the eyes of that stranger. If he were female, a Hanyu womb would have been a valued commodity, a prized linage worthy enough to supplement any noble bloodline. But he was male, magically barren, politically weak, plagued by asthma, and apparently not pleasing enough to the eyes. He laughed because he had enjoyed the look on Seiko's face.

A glow emitted from his chest, barely concealed by the cheap fabric. It was so demanding, restless and hungry. He placed his palm across his chest and cooed at it gently and lovingly. He dug into his own magic core and fed that temperamental being with every bit of magic that he could spare until his breath labored and his body collapsed in exhaustion. And yet, he smiled. His precious Axel, his best-kept secret. It was so small and yet so powerful already.

"Be patient," He murmured, as he struggled to get enough air into his lung, "Our chance will come."

And it did. 

Three months later, a fleet of Canadian royal vessels arrived at their harbor, carrying enough magical stones that would last Japan for three decades to come. Enough time for their magical eco-system to recover from the over-exploitation. All of them in exchange for Yuzuru Hanyu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:
> 
> Yujo (遊女): a type of prostitute
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Seiko Hashimoto (橋本聖子): Japanese politician, former speed skater, and track cycling sprinter. She stepped down from her role as the President of Japan Skating Federation to become the new Minister of 2020 Olympic and Paralympic Games this year.
> 
> Javier Fernández: A retired Spanish figure skater. He is the 2018 Olympic bronze medalist, two-time World champion, seven-time European champion, and eight-time Spanish national champion. He trained in Canada and was Yuzuru's rink mate. 
> 
> Patrick Chan: A retired Canadian figure skater. He is the 2018 Olympic gold medallist in the team event, 2014 Olympic silver medallist in both the men's and team events, a three-time World champion, a two-time Grand Prix Final champion, a three-time Four Continents champion, and a ten-time Canadian national champion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning: sexual abuse of minors and non-con.

It was decided that Yuzuru would be sent to Canada in 2 weeks, just enough time to give him a crash course in basic western etiquette. 

He didn't speak English, also known as the Common Tongue. His education was limited. After all, why would anyone being sentenced to a lifetime of confinement ever be in need of such thing? In keeping up with her kind facade, Empress Hashimoto had granted him bare necessity in every way, but never anything more. He could read, write and speak Japanese, but knew nothing about art, science, art of war or healing. It was the easiest way to ensure a rebellion never broke out. After all, who would be willing to risk their lives and rally behind an ignorant child who had no knowledge or skills, even though there were still Hanyu supporters on this land to this day? He was taught a few basic phrases such as "Yes", "Thank you", "Master" in English. What else could he possibly need going into his new life in a faraway land?

His new tutor Akihisa Nagashima* also deemed his sexual education vital given his future "responsibilities". Not that anyone would dare to ruin his pureness, but he was expected to know how to act appropriately when Prince Fernández bedded him. A crying virgin who put up a struggle would surely be viewed as unfavorable, bringing shame to his country and his family. For a whole week he was made to witness the break-in of a virgin boy, who would be sent to a brothel at the completion of his "training". 

Ryuichi Kihara** looked to be his age, with the same shade of pale skin, jet black hair and dark eyes as his. He even had a body shape that resembled his, thin with long limbs. He cried, kicked, bit every inch of flesh he could get his teeth on the first time the guards tried to touch him. He used every part of his body as a weapon for a chance to get away, but they were nothing compared to the fists and feet of well-trained soldiers. He was virtually black and blue in a few short hours, with blood coming out from his mouth with every breath he took. The next day, he shrank to a corner, with his hands around himself. But he didn't up much fight as those men finally got to take their turns with him, knowing full well that defying his fate was futile. 

Yuzuru was tied to a chair, with his hands secured behind his back, and his mouth gagged. Akihisa, with a savage glint in his eyes, had his hands on his head, tilting it to an angle to ensure he saw everything that took place right before his eyes - the eyes that begged for mercy, the lips that formed screams, a face that reflected every ounce of pure horror he was made to go through. 

Yuzuru saw how those blood-stained thighs were being twisted to unnatural angles for the pleasure of these men. He saw how the young boy complied only to receive a whipping afterward because he wasn't "trying hard enough". He saw how those eyes that almost resembled his own dulled, with all life gone out of them. By day five, Ryuichi was moaning and begging like he enjoyed every second of his own torture. His young body moved enthusiastically and seductively on top of every man he was made to pleasure, in exchange of a little kindness - a little food, water and a few hours of rest before more men demanded his body. 

So Yuzuru didn't put up a fight when it was his turn. 

He opened his mouth obediently, when Akihisa forced a dildo made of jade inside, calling it a vital "skill" that he must acquire. It was heavy, cold and tasted of bitter humiliation. The older man reamed it down his throat merciless as he touched himself, taking his enjoyment as he watched Yuzuru gagged and chocked. Afterward, he stroked the younger man's pale face with his semen stained finger. Yuzuru gasped as he struggled to regain his breath, as he was called a "good boy". 

As a reward for his compliance, he was allowed for a wish before he left his homeland. He couldn't think of anything, because he wasn't used to be granted anything. But his mother Yumi had one. She wanted to visit Seimei Jinja*** with him, a shrine built to honor the legendary mage Abe no Seimei, who was believed to be the first man who the God of East graced their mighty presence with. Known as the Onmyoji back in this day, he warded off evil and guarded peace. He was widely seen as a guardian for those about to embark on a journey. It was said that paying a visit to the shrine would guarantee a votive visit, so a traveler would always return to the place that started their journey, no matter the circumstances. 

Yuzuru didn't believe in God, East or West. He watched his mother spending almost every waking hour of her days worshiping their God at front of an alter that she built with her own hands, chanting prayers and making offering out of the bare amount of food they received, only to see everything that ever mattered to her being taken away - her pride, her will, and her beloved daughter. And yet being the obedient son he was, he agreed. If nothing else, it would at least serve as a memory that both of them could treasure in the many years to come. 

Seimei Jinja was situated just outside the city, a little run down with waning traffic. It was hardly surprising given the God of East had been silent for well over a century now, with no messenger to deliver their words or act on behalf of their will. 

It rained, as the mother and son walked on the road made with long slabs of ancient stones leading to the shrine, their once rough surface filed smooth by foot traffics over the centuries. Surrounded by delicate buds of the kikyo flowers**** that were yet to bloom, they entered the main gate with Seimei Kikyo***** engraving. They performed the cleansing ritual of washing hands and mouth at the dragon temizuya****** that supposedly purified them for them to walk on the holy ground. 

Inside the shrine, they ran the bell to inform the God of their presence. Yuzuru bowed twice, clapped twice, then bowed once more, exactly as dictated by the ritual, but he offered no prayer. He stepped outside as soon as he was done, knowing his mother would appreciate a little alone time with her God. For them, a chance to step outside of their confinement was very rare. 

He was just outside the door, close enough for him to hear every word of his mother's prayer. Words that were full of love, hope at first. She prayed for a happy, simple life for him. A life away from trouble, hardship, and hurt. A partner who loved him and who he would love in return. A family made of affection and happiness. She asked for God to grant her a sign through a coin toss. Heads for a promise to grant her wish, tails as dismissal. Yuzuru heard the coin hit the floor, again, again and again, as she sobbed in desperation and grief. If God of East still existed, they had clearly shown their will.

Out of pity and love for her, he pressed his hands together, closed his eyes, and offered a little prayer, "If you are still around then show some mercy, please give comfort to a broken soul." As pitiful as it might be, it was the only thing he could do as a son.

He never saw how all the kikyo flowers went into full bloom the moments his hands formed the gesture of prayer. Their petals unfolded to the perfect shape of pentagram, just like the Seimei Kikyo, as used by Abe no Seimei. Each of them breathtakingly beautiful and vibrant in dark shade of purple, the exact shade as the gown that Seimei wore back in his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Seimei Jinja(晴明神社)***: Seimei Shrine.
> 
> Kikyo flowers(桔梗)****: Balloon flowers or Bellflowers.
> 
> Seimei Kikyo(五芒星)*****: a pentagram used by Abe no Seimei as the symbol of the Onmyoryo (Bureau of Taoist Geomancy) associated with the Five Chinese Elements. 
> 
> Temizuya(手水舎)******: a Shinto water ablution pavilion for a ceremonial purification rite known as temizu. 
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Akihisa Nagashima(長島昭久)*: the new President of Japan Skating Federation, replacing Seiko Hashimoto (橋本聖子).
> 
> Ryuichi Kihara(木原龍一)**: is a Japanese figure skater. As a single skater, he is a two-time bronze medalist on the ISU Junior Grand Prix series and the 2010–11 Japanese Junior silver medalist. In 2013, he switched to pairs. His current partner is Riku Miura (三浦璃来). Their partnership was announced in August of 2019. They train in Oakville, Ontario at the Skate Oakville Skating Club under Bruno Marcotte, Meagan Duhamel, and Brian Shales. They competed at 2019 NHK Trophy, where they finished fifth.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuzuru left Japan on a cloudy morning, at the beginning of the Koyo* (autumn-colored foliage) season. He was grateful because he was granted the opportunity for a fleeting look of the beautiful seasonal change that was gradually taking place.

As the summer heat waned and a chill started to set in, the land put on a spectacular show as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of fiery reds, brilliant scarlets, and regal gold by the Japanese maple and ginkgo tree, as well as rowan and larch. Yuzuru took a deep breath in the crisp morning air and was overwhelmed as his entire vision was enveloped in swathes of red, orange, and gold for the first time in his confined life. 

Despite being early morning, the street was already bustling with the crowd as the Momijigari** (red leaf hunting) season officially began, and people started to embark on their annual pilgrimage to mountains, gorges and temples to enjoy the new season. 

Street vendors lined up on both sides of the roads, as they busily set up decorations and booths in preparations for the upcoming Kichijoji Autumn Festival. Sota Yamamoto, who was barely 10 years old, excitedly explained to him that in a few days thousands of people would flock from all over Tokyo to the neighborhood of Kichijoji***, as the Musashino Hachimangu**** Shine welcomed the new season by carrying a mikoshi***** shrine throughout the town amid a boisterous street festival. It was a tradition that started back in ancient times, in desperate periods of epidemic and disasters, that parishioners paraded the God of East to purify the land and bring blessing to its people. Men of various ages would chant passionately as they shook and rocked the mikoshii across the street, to invigorate the God and enliven the land. The number of believers might have dwindled, but the customs that had been passed on from the generations before remained strong. Commoners and royalties alike loved any excuse to party, after all. Yuzuru couldn't help but smile, as his young companion's excitement was infectious. 

The Yamamoto family was a key member of the Hanyu Dynasty, a prestigious branch at the royal court that produced countless warrior and generals. After the Hanyu family fell from power, they were demoted to commoners and placed under heavy supervision like many others who once served Emperor Hanyu. Sota was raised as Yuzuru's companion since birth, and he was in charge of taking care of his basic daily needs. Despite his family background, he was given a lot more freedom than his liege. People hardly pay much attention to a harmless child, so he had no issue of escaping to town from time to time without detection. And listening to those tales of adventure had always been highlight of Yuzuru's highly regulated life. 

Yuzuru's last glimpse of Japan was breathtakingly beautiful, and his heart ached because he was given so little time to savor. This land was all he ever knew, even though his entire world consisted of a dungeon with a small window that was out of his reach. When he was younger, he used to push a chair against the wall when the adults weren't paying attention. He'd stand on his toes, feeling his leg muscles straining as he tried to get a peek of the outside world, of the land that he was in love with. But it wasn't long before his little rebellion was discovered, and all chairs in his room were bolted down to the floor. Then all he had were rays of sunlight or moonlight that shone over his head, and a land that he constructed in his head through books, poetries and stories told by his mother, sister, and Sota. So he hungrily committed every image to memory, no details too small as the ship left the shore. And eventually, everything faded into the frosty air. 

The voyage was 15 days long. Yuzuru, who was fascinated by anything and everything, quickly found himself being equally entranced by the ocean that seemly stretched across his vision endlessly. But before long, he was locked in a room in a secluded corner of the ship. As if he had any means of escape being surrounded by the ocean. 

Yuzuru, who was used to isolation easily adapted. After all, it wasn't all that different from the dungeon where he spent most of his life, except for the sound of waves crashing against the metal body of the boat. But here, he at least had a window, the company of natural light, a glimpse to the world outside, even if it was just water that stretched endlessly across the horizon. Sota brought him his food, water, and change of clothes, along with gossips that he had picked up whilst mingling with the crew. 

Officially, he was part of the delegation to kick start the new alliance formed between Japan and Canada. The team included official diplomats to initiate further trade negotiations, security details, as well as the first group of students who would form part of the exchange program between the countries. Amongst them was the 12 years old, Prince Shoma Uno, the third son of Empress Hashimoto and her Emperor Consort, who was sibling to Crown Prince Daisuke Takahashi and Princess Mao Asada. And Yuzuru, "as a show of Empress Hashimoto's kindness and generosity", was allowed to accompany his highness abroad despite his background. Akihisa Nagashima was appointed as the head of the delegation, as well the guides to the students seeking overseas education. 

He never thought about making acquaintance with the young prince, as he expected his entourage to keep them apart. But one day, his door was unlocked and a curious and yet unfamiliar face sneaked a peek behind it. 

"Who are you?" That young boy with wide innocent eyes, and chubby cheeks that you couldn't help but want to pinch asked.

"Yuzuru Hanyu, your royal highness." Yuzuru stood up and bowed. 

"You know who I am!" The boy looked bewildered. 

Yuzuru only smiled. If his clothes made with the finest silk and sateen, embroidered by the finest embroiderers in the land weren't indicative enough, the royal insignia that was pinned to his left chest surely was. And there was only one person would dare to breach his room without fear of consequences on this boat. 

"Why are you here?" He asked politely, feeling a little awkward, as the young prince walked through the door, and decide to circle around him. His big eyes were full of curiosity as he examined him from head to toe. 

"You know, they say you have eight arms and four legs and four eyes that blaze fire, so they have to lock you away." He said. Yuzuru's eyes widened at those ridiculous words, but nothing prepared him for the blinding smile that filled his entire vision, "But they all lied! You are so pretty!"

Yuzuru couldn't help but chuckle, and soon the young prince was giggling with him. 

Shoma didn't stay long that day. He had to go before he was discovered. But he returned two days a later, with a handful of candies to share. Yuzuru, who newly discovered his sweet tooth greatly appreciated a break from his bland daily diet that consisted mostly of rice, vegetables, and miso soup, and more so the gesture of friendship. 

It was a simple friendship that grew in secrecy. Shoma, who was always generous and innocent, was a refreshing presence. After all, he didn't have that many people in his life, other than the few constants, such as the guards, his late sister and his mother, who now remained behind in Japan as a mean of control over him. Unfortunately, it didn't remain a secret for long. 

One night after the curfew, Shoma sneaked back into his room with a Go board. He had been teaching Yuzuru the game. He easily won the few rounds, but soon found himself in many heated battles that lead to eventual defeat once Yuzuru figured out the game. Being prideful as he was, he wanted a rematch to their morning session. Yuzuru was only happy to oblige his young friend, as he enjoyed a taiyaki****** cake that he brought as a midnight snack. 

None of them were prepared for the attack as a masked man seemingly appeared out of nowhere, his dark cloak hid his silhouette so well in the relative darkness. But the edge of his blade was bright and sharp, brimming with magic. They barely dodged out of the way of the first strike, before the second strike came straight at Yuzuru's neck.

Axel inside of Yuzuru growled ferociously and protectively. Yuzuru gritted his teeth, desperately forcing it to quiet down. And it did with much reluctance, humming and waiting. His secret was his, and his along. Instead, he used the Go board as a shield, feeling it breaking into a million pieces. His arms took most of the impact, and it was enough to throw his entire body backward. 

Shoma quickly stood up, and charged forward, being the only one who had combat training. The young prince, like almost all Japanese citizens in the past few generations were not born with magical traits. In order to remedy such deficiency in a nation, those who were strong enough to handle magic were put through training programs with specially built weapons that harnessed the natural magic from magic stones. Despite Shoma's natural talent in the area, he was barehanded and lacked in experience compared to an assassin who made his living through killing. Soon he was backed to a corner. His eyes widened, as he watched the blade coming at him like lighting, aiming straight for his heart. Before he could let out a scream, Yuzuru pushed him out of his way and took the hit with his shoulder with a loud cry of pain. 

Dark spots dance before Yuzuru's eyes, as an excruciating pain radiated from his left shoulder. He collapsed onto the floor. With his back now facing the assailant and no means to defend himself, he closed his eyes and readied himself for the final blow. But it never came. 

At that exact moment, the room was busted open, with Akihisa and the guards charging in, filling every available space. And assailant, upon realizing he had lost his chance, disappeared out of thin air with a pop. Teleportation was only possible in a short distance. And given they were surrounded by the sea it was most likely that he was still somewhere on the boat. It was very possible that he joined their journey from the beginning, pretending to be part of the crew, the guards or even the diplomatic team. A thorough search was ordered and promptly carried out. Shoma was asked to leave. Soon the room was empty save for Akihisa and Yuzuru. 

"Now you know why your family has been kept under incarceration. There are plenty of people out there wanting you dead." The older man had an odd glint in his eyes, as he examined Yuzuru's wound, "And the only reason both you and your mother are still alive is that our kind Empress extends her protection to you. For that, you must be grateful and ready to repay in kind."

"Of course, I understand and I'm grateful," Yuzuru responded, as he had always been taught. He had lived his entire life under the thumb of others, like an insect waiting to be crushed in any second. But this night had shown him exactly how closely a sword looming over his head, and Akihisa being the only person standing between them at the moment. He hissed in pain but forced himself to hold still, as Akihisa's caressed his wound, before digging his thumb into it and pressing hard. 

"Now show me how grateful you are." He said as he dragged his blood-stained thumb across Yuzuru's mouth. 

Yuzuru opened his lips. With his dark eyes half-closed, he obediently allowed the digit making its way inside. He sucked on it gently, as the older man sighed in both satisfaction and barely restrained frustration.

Yuzuru smirked as he tasted his own blood against the callused skin, his long fringe sheltered him against preying eyes. After all, he knew exactly what it was like to have a glimpse of everything he ever wanted, only to be denied after a brief taste. 

\------------------------------

The commotions on the boat eventually died down after a night of fruitless search. Before the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, a small burst of magic appeared at a secluded area of the boat, but it went out before anyone could take notice.

In a land that was far, far away, a small gathering took place in an ancient house. The entire room was stripped out of decorations, other than a table carved out of an ancient bristlecone pine tree that was said to have witnessed the birth of both God of East and God of West, and 13 chairs made of pure gold. 13 people occupied these seats, each dressed in a black cloak that shimmered with protective spells and battle magic, with their hoods lowered to obscure their identities. They each had an identical insignia accented with blood-red rubies and ocean-blue diamond stones pinned to their left chest, with delicate engravings that were barely visible under the dimmed light. 

A note was quietly passed around, and no one said a word until they all had a chance to read it.

"I think we have all the evidence that we need." The man who sat at the far end was the first one to break the silence. 

"Do we?" A high pitched laughter broke out near the head of the table, followed by a female voice that was arrogant and taunting, "Do we know for sure this time? Saya Hanyu was a careless mistake. And we wouldn't want a repeat of that."

"Well, his Empress took care of that little problem before we had a chance to lift a finger, didn't she?" The one sitting on her right said, his tone just as mocking.

The first speaker couldn't help but cower, and that ignited a few more snickers around the table. 

"Enough." The man who sat at the head of the table finally spoke. He didn't raise his voice and yet silence immediately followed, "So we will perform more assessments to be sure. Are we all in agreement?"

All of them lowered their heads in deference before they disappeared from the room one by one until there was only the master left. He re-read the note one more time, before crunching it between his fingers. A fire broke out on his palm, engulfing it in flames. For a brief second, there was enough light in the room that his unmatched eyes became visible, one sea blue and one jet black, before they were once again well hidden in the shadow created by his hood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Koyo*/momiji (紅葉): autumn-colored foliage. The word Koyo literally means "red leaves" but it is used to refer to all the colors of autumn leaves. The Koyo season in Japan typically begins in mid-September in Hokkaido to the north, gradually spreading to the southern end of the Japanese archipelago in about 50 days. The viewing season lasts about 20 to 25 days. 
> 
> Momijigari** (紅葉狩り): the Japanese tradition of visiting areas where leaves have turned red in autumn.
> 
> Kichijoji*** (吉祥寺) is a neighborhood in the city of Musashino in Tokyo, Japan.
> 
> Musashino Hachimangu**** (武蔵野八幡宮): a Shinto shrine located in Kichijoji. In this story, it's a shrine dedicated to the God of East.
> 
> Mikoshi***** (神輿): a sacred religious palanquin/portable Shinto shrine. Shinto followers believe that it serves as the vehicle to transport a deity in Japan while moving between the main shrine and temporary shrine during a festival or when moving to a new shrine. Often, the mikoshi resembles a miniature building. In this story, it's a vehicle dedicated to the God of East.
> 
> Taiyaki****** (鯛焼き): a Japanese fish-shaped cake. It imitates the shape of the tai (Japanese red seabream), which it is named after. The most common filling is red bean paste that is made from sweetened azuki beans.
> 
> In real life: 
> 
> Sota Yamamoto (山本草太): a Japanese figure skater. He is the 2018 CS Asian Open Trophy champion, the 2016 Youth Olympic champion, the 2015 World Junior bronze medalist, a two-time Junior Grand Prix Final medalist, and the 2015–16 Japan junior national champion.
> 
> Shoma Uno (宇野昌磨): a Japanese figure skater. He is the 2018 Olympic silver medalist, a two-time World silver medalist, the 2019 Four Continents Champion, a four-time Grand Prix Final medalist, the 2017 Asian Winter Games champion, and a three-time Japanese national champion. Uno is the first skater to successfully land a quadruple flip in an international competition.
> 
> Daisuke Takahashi (髙橋大輔): a Japanese figure skater. He is the 2010 Olympic bronze medalist, the 2010 World champion, the 2012–13 Grand Prix Final champion, a two-time Four Continents champion, and a five-time Japanese national champion. He retired in October 2014 but returned to competitive skating at the start of the 2018–19 season. He will move to ice dance next season, partnering up with Kana Muramoto (村元哉中).
> 
> Mao Asada (浅田真央): a retired Japanese figure skater. She is the 2010 Olympic silver medalist, a three-time World champion, a three-time Four Continents champion, and a four-time Grand Prix Final champion. She is the first female figure skater to land three triple Axel jumps in one competition, which she achieved at the 2010 Winter Olympics.
> 
>   
Other Notes:
> 
> I have no idea who Hashimoto's husband is in real life. Google tells me he is a police officer? Let me know if you do. 
> 
> 🍬🍭🍫 for anyone who could guess the identities of these cloaked people, and their counterparts in real life 😏😏😏


	4. Chapter 4

Shoma stopped coming to his room after that night. It was hardly surprising given someone in his status mingling with someone like Yuzuru would be viewed unfavorably by vast majority of people. Still the gifts came, like boxes of higashi*, namagashi** and imagawayaki***. And more importantly, books on Canada and its social and political environment as Yuzuru had asked for.

Begrudgingly Akihisa had passed on these to Yuzuru. Yuzuru highly doubted it was because he felt the need to reward him after saving the life of their Prince. More like Akihisa finally gave in to Prince Shoma's fits of temper. He took great pleasure in inspecting each item at the front of Yuzuru, more out of desire to antagonize than anything else, before throwing them all over the floor before him. He apparently, had found it immensely entertaining in seeing Yuzuru on his knees, picking each item up. His baggy clothes not enough to hide that youthful silhouette, with all of his fragility and beauty on display so meekly. 

Ever since the night of the assassination, Yuzuru was plagued with nightmares, night after night. But the moment he opened his eyes, all recollections of his dreams would be gone, like smoke in the rain. All that remained was the throat that he screamed hoarse and the nightshirt that soaked through by his sweat. In those moments, he was actually thankful for the loud banging on his locked door and guards roared at him about keeping his mouth shut. They were the boundary between his dreams and reality.

In those dark nights, all he had were Axel, that small spark that burnt so bright inside of him. A comfort in darkness until the first ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds, so he had enough light to get back to his reading. 

Almost as if being threatened by his dreams too, Axel had become more insistent and demanding. Like a child who just woke up from a long sleep, it now demanded substance and attention at a much higher frequency. Yuzuru fed it as often as he could, the extra calories from the snacks certainly helped, but he still struggled to keep up with its unrelenting demands. His own magic whined in over exhaustion, and one day he found himself collapsing on the floor. His airway produced coarse, whistling sound as he struggled to get air out of his lungs. His chest tightness like a heavy rock was placed on top of it every time he tried to take a breath. He panicked as his vision darkened with his body became oxygen deprived, until he door was unlocked and Sota rushed in, with an inhaler in hand. On the brink of losing his consciousness, he felt a gentle warmth enveloping his wildly erratic heart, a soothing presence that was almost apologetic. 

"It's OK..." He murmured with a faint smile before he finally gave in to darkness.

From that day onward, he and Axel had reached a somewhat compromise - a less frequent and draining feeding schedule for the benefit of both. To his relief, that little temperamental presence had finally seen some reason. And for that, Yuzuru was fondly grateful, because otherwise, he didn't think he could hide his secret once he was out of the boat and into a new and unfamiliar environment.

From the first moment he set foot on Canadian soil, he felt a connection to this unfamiliar land. A land that would soon be his new home for many years to come. To his surprise and delight, the Toronto area, located on a broad sloping plateau interspersed with rivers, deep ravines, and urban forest, was also set ablaze with saturated yellows, oranges, and reds in the cool weather. 

Unlike Japan, the land was immersed in natural magic. He felt acutely on every inch of skin, even under layers of clothes. It was electrifying and awe-inspiring. Axel stirred inside him as if sensing the bubbling magic as well and becoming restless. Yuzuru took a few deep breaths, willed it to quieten down. 

The delegation was escorted into luxurious carriages, lined with leather and decorated with gold and silver. The splendor of autumn lined the sides of every road that the carriages traveled on. Yuzuru couldn't help but peeked through the window on his left and taking glimpse of bright blue sky between the colored leaves. For a moment, it almost felt like he was back in Japan. 

Yet, Canada was all so different, as he soon got to experience it himself. It was a kingdom built by immigrants from all around the world, staying true to its ancient name - Land of Settlement to this day. Toronto being the capital city, in particular, reflected as such throughout its diverse population. More than 50 percent of its residents belonged to minority population groups and over 200 distinct ethnic origins were represented among its inhabitants. While English or the Common Tongue was the official language, over 160 languages were spoken in the city.

Its diversity was well reflected in its architecture as well as its cultures. Whilst most buildings adopted designs with heavy British influence as the British were the first settlers, other cultures' impact could easily be seen throughout the city - the Chinese Paifang**** in East Chinatown; the Gerrard India Bazaar, being North America’s largest South Asian ethnic market, was full of stores that sold colorful fabrics and embroideries, jewelry and spices; Little Tokyo, a Japanese district with plethora of Japanese restaurants, shops, cafés, salons, and specialized boutiques, just to name a few. 

More significantly was its influence on the Canadian political system. Canada was the only kingdom with a nonhereditary monarchy. The crown didn't pass from one member of the royal family to another in the same family, unlike most kingdoms under the monarch system. Power succession laid primarily in the hands of the God of West, as represented by the High Priest and High Priestess of Canada. When the God made their will known, they would choose the most suitable one from a pool of candidates. These candidates, often Prince or Princess, or other powerful figures from another land who were deemed suitable by the High Priest and High Priestess and hence be given royal titles of Canada. Currently, Canada had two Prince, one with Chinese lineage but was born in Canada and the other born in Spain. 

Canada hadn't had a head of state for over 30 years now. The power to govern now laid within the hands of the Cabinet as the Ministers were responsible for steering the country. This perceived power vacuum was particularly attractive to Prince and Princess who were not eligible for crown in their own countries for a variety of reasons. They saw it as an alternative path to power. Each of them came to Canada bearing their prestigious names, wealth and political influences, all of which contributed to the flourishment of this Kingdom.

On the night of their arrival, the Royal Palace opened its gate to welcome its newest guests, as well as the people of means and influence in the city. The long hallways that Yuzuru walked through with the Japanese delegation were decorated with expensive marbles and paintings Kings and Queens who had reigned over the land in the past. 

The Throne Room was magnificent. Mosaic of colored glasses that reached the tall ceilings depicted the God of West. Their genderless figure danced lithely in flames. Red was the dominant color in the room but gently offset by various soft shades of creams and greys. The throne was made of redwood, a tree that was known to be ever-living, and rubrum steel forming a crest in the design of flame on its middle as a sign of blessing by the God of West. This is the hardest and toughest metal in all realms, well known for its scarcity as its difficulty to work with. Only a God's hand could create something with so much intricacy and details with such material. 

It was, of course empty, however, one man and one woman stood beside it. Each of them dressed in a red gown with embroideries of the same flame design. None of them was adorned with any jewel, but their gown spoke volumes about their prestigious position in the court. After all, they were the only people allowed to wear the color of flame in this kingdom - the High Priest and High Priestess of Canada, Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue. They were servants to their God, who abstained from marriage in serving their master. But there were rumors that they were avid lovers to each other behind closed doors. 

Formal introductions were being made. Shoma, of course, attracted the most attention. Being the third son to Empress Hashimoto, and not in direct line to the throne in Japan people speculated whether he would be chosen as the new Prince in due time, and how it would affect the current political environment. The Hanyu name also turned many heads. People whispered as they run their critical eyes across Yuzuru. Most of them had their attention directed elsewhere soon enough. After all, a name without an army and a country as backing was nothing but a name. A few of their gaze lingered, those eyes turned dark and hungry at a young boy who they saw as innocent, moldable and beautiful. One of them being the Crown Prince Patrick Chan. And this, of course, didn't escape Akihisa, who carefully filed it away inside his brain. 

After the state dinner, Japanese themed in honor of their new alliance, people danced and mingled. Yuzuru happily used the opportunity to fade to the background and get away from the crowd. He was able to spot Javier again, dressed in a pair of high-waisted pants, and a white ruffled shirt underneath a short jacket with fine embroidery. His outfit proudly announced his Spanish heritage and the political influence that came as his backing. He looked regal and handsome as he danced with a blond girl with beautiful blue eyes. Her body curvaceous, her smile bright and flirtatious. Their body language was familiar and intimate. Yuzuru couldn't help but gave a little incredulous laugh. Was Akihisa truly expecting him to compete with someone like that? 

But soon someone else caught his eyes. A man, by traditional standard who might not be seen as beautiful, and yet he was. He leaned casually against a sofa at the far end of the room, nonchalantly drank a glass of wine. And yet people flocked to him like he was the center of their universe. He wore far too many jewels that shone harshly under the various lights, and a gown that most would consider far too revealing on a male. He was obnoxiously loud in his laughs, and high pitched in his talks, yet people were entranced by his every word, every move, and every smile. 

Others stood far away and looked on in barely concealed scorn. They whispered and gossiped. And this was how Yuzuru got a name: Johnny Weir, the lover of the Swiss King Stéphane Lambiel, the man who nearly sparked a war between Switzerland and the United States.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Higashi* (干菓子/乾菓子): Japanese dry confectionery. They are usually small, colorful and aesthetically pleasing candies made with dry ingredients such as finely grounded Japanese sugar and soybean flour. 
> 
> Namagashi** (生菓子): Japanese wet confectionery that contains 30% or more moisture. They may contain fruit jellies, other gelatines such as Kanten or sweetened bean paste.
> 
> Imagawayaki*** (今川焼き): is a Japanese dessert made of batter in a special pan (similar to a waffle iron but without the honeycomb pattern), and filled with sweet azuki bean paste. Although it is becoming increasingly popular to use a wider variety of fillings such as vanilla custard, different fruit custards, and preserves, etc.
> 
> Chinese paifang/pailou**** (牌坊/牌楼): an archway, a traditional style of Chinese architectural arch or gateway structure.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue: a retired Canadian ice dancer team. They are the most decorated Canadian ice dance team of all time and the most decorated Olympic figure skaters of all time. They are the 2010 Olympic champion, the 2018 Olympic champion, the 2014 Olympic silver medalist, three-time World champion, three-time Four Continents champion, the Grand Prix Final champion, eight-time Canadian National champion.
> 
> Johnny Weir: a retired American figure skater, fashion designer, and television commentator. He is a two-time Olympian, the 2008 World bronze medalist, a two-time Grand Prix Final bronze medalist, the 2001 World Junior Champion, and a three-time U.S. national champion.
> 
> Stéphane Lambiel: a retired Swiss figure skater, coach, and choreographer. He is a two-time World champion, the 2006 Olympic silver medalist, a two-time Grand Prix Final champion, and a nine-time Swiss national champion. He is known for his spins and is credited with popularizing some spin positions.
> 
> Preview for next chapter (probably) :
> 
> Yuzu being instructed to seduce Javi in bed  
Javi: What a nice body pillow! *proceeds to hug Yuzu & falls asleep promptly*  
Yuzu: ....


	5. Chapter 5

TCC Acadamy was the most prominent education facility in Canada. Headed by Brian Orser, Minister of Education and Tracy Wilson, Minister of Health, it offered a range of general and specialized education for the elites and the talented.

Shoma, and along with the rest of the chosen students in the Japanese exchange program went through a range of both physical and written tests to determine their proficiency in a wide range of subjects, such as magic, the art of war, healing, politics, mathematics, science and combat training. From there onward, each of them would be placed under a tailored program. For the younger ones, it was about receiving sufficient exposure to a wide range of subjects that would help them discover their potentials. For the older ones, it was about focusing on areas that would benefit their future careers and goals. 

Headmaster Brian Orser and Headmistress Tracy Wilson conducted the induction tests. Yuzuru being part of the program received the same set of tests as everyone else. Unsurprisingly he placed poorly in the physical exams, which triggered a wave of mockery amongst his peers. He wasn't bothered, because he too worried about the upcoming examination for magical aptitudes. 

They lined up in a row, then Tracey placed a teardrop-shaped amulet on top of their heads, one by one. It emitted a low and semi-translucent glow as it passed from one student to the next, with an occasional flick of light. Yuzuru let out a breath he was holding when she announced that unfortunately, none of them had shown any magical trait in the test. It wasn't surprising to those presented, given that there hadn't been a known case of magical person in the last 150 years in Japan, with Saya Hanyu being the only exception and a well-guarded secret from the general public. 

All the written tests were in English. Yuzuru who was placed at the back of the room, had his hands on his lap, counting the minutes until the time was up. Tracey came to him with a frown and asked what was wrong in English. He looked at her with a look of confusion, as all the other students again laughed at him. Shoma, who sat on the first row, turned around and translated for him. His young face full of barely constrained anger. Yuzuru has his head lowered and murmured he didn't understand English. The sniggers around him only grew louder, until Shoma commanded them keep their mouths shut. They obeyed instantly. 

He was pulled out of the examination room and taken to an empty classroom. A cup of green tea and a tray of maple shortbread were placed in front of him. Yuzuru looked up in confusion, only to see that blond woman with gentle blue eyes gave him a kind smile, and he couldn't help but returned it as he timidly took a shortbread to munch on. She ruffled his hair and said it would all be OK. She clearly only had grasp of very few Japanese phrases, and her accent was heavy. And at that moment, he wanted to believe every word of hers more than anything else in the world.

That was the last day that he attended the academy. He was told he didn't meet the admission criteria, for which he wasn't surprised. He never thought Akihisa would seriously consider giving him a proper education. Two days later, the Fernández residence sent a carriage for him, so Sota and he packed their bags and moved out of the campus residence. 

The Fernández House clearly drew inspiration from the Royal Palace of Madrid, although not to the same scale and grant, was built in the form of a square and looks out over a large courtyard with galleries and a parade ground. It comprised over 200 rooms, including the Main Staircase, designed with over 70 steps; the Main Hall featuring a ceiling painted by one of the most prominent artists of their era; and the Royal Chapel, which was home to a collection of string instruments made by the legendary luthiers. It was said that Queen Fernández loved his brother so much that she couldn't bear the thought of him missing his homeland, so she made sure a piece of Spain went with him. No expense was spared in building the royal residence for her younger brother. Spanish marble, stucco, mahogany doors and windows and important works of Spanish art adorned every room. 

Prince Fernández was away for a state business trip. For four days Yuzuru was left to his own devices. To his surprise, he was given a fully furnished room facing the garden, and freedom to roam. Even without its owner, the butlers, servants, and maids maintained the order of the household. Only speaking English or Spanish, they generally kept their distance from him but was courteous while ensuring his needs were being met. His meals were always delicious and of a great variety for him to choose from, there were always plenty of snacks if he wanted them. His wardrobe was full of finely made clothes in the trendiest style. He was given plenty of books to occupy his time, both in English and Japanese. For the first time in his life, there was no one restricting the subjects he was allowed to read upon. 

A tutor was hired to teach him English, a woman named Nanami Abe, who was responsible for a 2 hour long English lesson every afternoon. Otherwise, Yuzuru was free to do what he wanted, including venturing out to the streets, as long as a guard accompanied him. Yuzuru only tried it once. Years of isolation made him much more reluctant in dealing with large crowds. Plus he didn't want to push his luck. Not when he had no idea what the rules or expectations of him were.

On the night of Javier's return, he was asked to join him for dinner. It was a simple affair. The kitchen prepared a Japanese meal consisted of fish for him, while Javi enjoyed a steak. Either of them spoke much due to the language barrier, but Javier had a soft look on his face as Yuzuru took a bite of the butter tart cheesecake that was presented as the dessert. The indulgent treat brought a small smile to his face as he took a bite. Yuzuru savored the sticky filling made with caramel and salty, crunchy pecans, and thought perhaps what was to come wouldn't be too bad because the man before him had shown him nothing but kindness.

That night, he dressed in a simple white nightgown after taking a bath. He already found out where the Prince's bedroom was in the last a few days, so he had no trouble navigating to his destination under the dimmed lights of the hallway, even though his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

He knocked on the door nervously, until he heard a voice to prompt to go in. Javier was in a pair of boxes and already in his bed. He looked surprised to see Yuzuru.

"Are you OK?" He asked. Yuzuru hesitantly nodded, clearly wasn't expecting to be asked about anything at this stage.

A look of confusion passed on the Prince's face, before it dawned on him, "Are you homesick?"

The question went right over Yuzuru's head due to his very limited English vocabulary. Still he wordless nodded again, not knowing what else to do. Javier lifted his duvet and gesture him to come. Yuzuru complied. What he hadn't expected was having a soft kiss being placed on top of the forehead before Javier covered them both with the duvet and drifted off to sleep. 

Yuzuru blinked in growing confusing, as he found himself stuck in a warm cocoon made of a duvet and an adult male body. His eyes wide and mind alert in the darkness as he considered whether this was some kind of game and he was expected to respond in certain way. He waited, as the seconds turned to minutes, and then minutes to hours, for Javier to wake up and make use of what was his. But the Prince never did. Eventually, his own energy waned and he drifted off to sleep just before the break of dawn.

He woke up to an empty spot next to him, the next morning, as Javier was already off to attend the Cabinet meeting. He found himself still fully clothed, with every button and every ribbon in place.

The next few nights went exactly the same way, with Yuzuru going to Javier's bedroom and the Prince wordless sharing his bed with him. Javier soon developed a habit of enveloping the smaller frame between his arms and legs, and Yuzuru soon got used to falling asleep listening to the sound of breathing and heartbeat of another person. These nights soon went from being what he dreaded the most to being what he looked forward to the most if he were ever being honest with himself. He couldn't help but suspect that perhaps the older man was simply in want of a body pillow, and he happened to fit the requirements. Except in some of the mornings, he felt a hardness pressing against his inner thigh, and he wasn't that naive not to know what it was. Clearly, the man wasn't above from having a physical need. 

One morning, he felt those large hands sneaking beneath his nightgown. Fingers that were calloused from wielding swords stroked his tummy. The electrifying feeling that traveled down his spine was so foreign and scary that he gasped. In that second, it almost felt like his body wasn't his own anymore. He had to bite down hard on his own lip to stop himself from making further sounds. The other man's erection nested between his fully clothed legs, as his owner thrust subconsciously. Yuzuru froze in the spot. He wondered whether he was supposed to slide down and use his mouth to give the man pleasure as he had been shown. 

Before he could make up his mind, Javier woke up from his sleep, and two pairs of eyes met. For a moment, none of them made a sound, until the older man's eyes widened, his entire face gone flame red as he literally jumped out of bed. Yuzuru watched in confusion as the Prince of Canada rushed to the bathroom. Then he heard the water being turned on, then a loud yelp. Ten minutes later, Javier emerged, his hair wet and tousled. He sat on the side of the bed, next to a very confused Yuzuru, and apologized. 

The Japanese tilted his head as he studied this strange man with warm chocolate eyes and apologetic smile and suddenly noticed that the tip of ears that were still shown tint of redness. He couldn't help himself but reached out to touch it, only to realize his entire body was cold as ice. 

Either of them spoke about this episode, but Javier no longer allowed Yuzuru into his bedroom.

Akihisa summoned him soon after, wanting a progress report on his progress with the Prince. His eyes critically assessed Yuzuru, who was dressed in a well-made gown in a style that was very popular amongst his age group. He took in the pale skin had gained a more healthy glow, and a frail frame had gained some much-needed weight. He clearly was pleased with what he had seen. After all, only a master who was pleased with his toy would bother to take care of it. 

However, his eyes narrowed when he ran his fingers against Yuzuru's bare arm and felt a slight tremor beneath his hand. This was not a typical reaction of man who was used to touches of man.

"Tell me, has he fucked you yet?" He demanded. 

Yuzuru, knowing lying was futile, shook his head. And the older man tsked in displeasure, "You only have one job and that is to gain Prince Fernández's favor and yet you fail so miserably."

However, he wasn't that deterred by the younger man's failure, as he clearly had a plan B, "Well, you have a month. If you still can't gain his favor by then we would look for another ally in the court. There are plenty of men here who would have a use for boy like you."

Yuzuru, who vividly remembered the dark gazes that lingered on him during the party at the Royal Palace, and how they hungrily stripped him out of his clothes and dignity with their eyes that were full of malice in public, shuddered. 

Akihisa, who clearly thought he needed some help, hired him a tutor. Yuzuru was surprised to find the man who had everyone's attention on the night of the party showing up in his study. Johnny Weir, the trendsetter of Canadian upper society, had an elaborated headpiece made of black phoenix feathers and black rose. His long gown was in the same shade of black, only sheer as it draped to the floor, the material was flowing almost like water. The only color on him was a smear of lipstick, red like blood. 

"Hello, my dear, you can call me Johnny," He said, his tone sultry and light, "I'm sure we will get along fabulously."

Johnny was considered the best dancer in Europe if not the best one in the world. He was well known for his musicality and sensual interpretation and seductive body language. He was rumored to be exiled from his homeland, the United States of America after committing a grave crime against his country. Proficient in over five languages, including Japanese, he traveled around the world to perform and teach. Everywhere he went scandals and gossips followed, which only garner more attention to him, like the extravagant jewelry that he enjoyed to adorn himself with. 

Yuzuru had no idea how much Akihisa had to pay to get someone like him to teach him privately. Surely it would be beneath him to teach a 15-year-old who had zero exposure in dance. And he had no idea why Johnny would agree to it because it wasn't like he was in need of wealth or power. It was rumored that he had the King of Switzerland, Stéphane Lambiel wrapped around his little finger, as well as a few other important figures in the realm.

Yuzuru didn't understand why Akihisa thought he needed dance lessons. But he tried hard to follow the lessons, no matter how strict Johnny was as a teacher. All of his attempt to seduce Javier was failing miserably. After all, this was the man who chose to take a cold shower over touching him. The Prince not only forbid him to come to his bed, but he also stopped sharing meals with him. He was barely around the house anymore, often only returning in the morning, after a night of partying and drinking. Yuzuru, who had run out of all ideas, threw all of himself to the training. Johnny taught him the basic moves of contemporary dance, the techniques to harness gravity and momentum, shown him how to move with more efficiency and less effort. Soon Yuzuru found himself being able to perform moves that he didn't think was possible for him as his body became more supple and enduring, while Johnny looked at him in deep contemplation. 

With the one month mark approaching, Yuzuru was becoming distracted. On one hand, he was increasingly frustrated with his own lack of progress with Javier, on the other, he was also confused about the sense of dread in his own heart. He didn't understand why mere thought of leaving the Fernández House bought so much pain. Perhaps all the food, clothing, and kindness had softened him. He was becoming unreasonably fond of the only place he was treated like a human being. 

Johnny, who was well aware of his task, smiled in sympathy as he wiped Yuzuru's tears away. Yuzuru blinked in surprise. He didn't realize tears had trailed down his cheeks until his tutor wiped them away with his fingertips. 

"Let me help you, child, " He said. His lips soundless formed a few words, which Yuzuru never managed to catch. 

Yuzuru's eyes went glassy, his expression becomes blank. He looked almost like a life-size doll, beautiful and lifeless. 

Johnny inspected him, took in the beauty that came with that once-prestigious bloodline. His long finger stroked younger man's cheek in an almost loving manner, without an ounce of care about a trail of blood that seeped from the corner of his own lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the fluff (while it lasted).
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Brian Orser: a retired Canadian figure skater. He is the 1984 and 1988 Olympic silver medallist, 1987 World champion and eight-time Canadian national champion. He is Skating Consultant at the Toronto Cricket Skating and Curling Club. He coaches/coached Yuzuru Hanyu and Javier Fernández.
> 
> Tracy Wilson: a retired Canadian ice dancer. With partner Rob McCall, she won the Canadian national championship seven times, is a three-time World bronze medallist, and the 1988 Olympic bronze medallist. She is Skating Consultant at the Toronto Cricket Skating and Curling Club. She coaches/coached Yuzuru Hanyu and Javier Fernández.
> 
> Nanami Abe (阿部奈々美): a Japanese figure skating coach and choreographer. She coached Yuzuru Hanyu until he moved to Toronto, Canada in April 2012. Her husband, Toshinobu Yoshida, aligns blades for Yuzuru from his shop in Sendai.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning: dub-con

On the night of the one-month deadline as set by Akihisa, Sota found out that Javier would be at home hosting a small dinner gathering for a few close friends and informed Yuzuru of such. Yuzuru, who understood all too well that this was his last chance to have any say in his own future, prepared himself physically and mentally.

He bathed in chrysanthemums petals soaked water to reduce anxiety. He applied cream and lightly scented oil to his skin so it was soft and supple to touch. He brushed his long hair, so it fell like the finest black silk to his waist. He looked at himself in the mirror. His features delicate, almost feminine and distinctively Asian with his dark almond-shaped eyes, and jet-black straight hair. A face that Javier hadn't considered beautiful from the first time they met. A white silk gown hung loosely over his small frame, obscuring his boyish figure. He thought about Javier and all the women he had been seen with - all sexy and feminine, with gorgeous curves, and tanned skin that glowed in health and vitality. He couldn't help but wondered if all these were enough. If he was enough. He sat by the window, listened and waited. The hours stretched as he contemplated, with so many noises outside of his room as well as inside his head.

It was well into 3am when the commotion downstairs had finally died down, the guests left and their master retreated to his bedroom. Yuzuru gathered his courage and made his way to Javier's. 

His memory of that night was hazy at the best. 

He remembered himself undressing in front of Javier. His trembling fingers made their way to the robe that held that thin article of clothes together. He tugged a few times until it finally gave away and fell apart. He felt the silky material sliding down from his shoulders, pooling beneath his feet, leaving him naked as the day he was born. The urge to cover himself with his hands was overwhelmingly strong, and yet he resisted, as he forced a smile that he prayed was seductive onto his face. 

He remembered Javier, who stumbled a bit under the influence of alcohol, walking up to him. He bent down to retrieve the gown before draping it over him. 

Yuzuru, who knew he had lost, after seeing the look that was almost akin to pity in those chocolate-colored eyes, and yet he stubbornly refused to back down. He knew he had to try one final time. So he lifted his fingers, stroked those cheeks that were sharp enough to cut, and begged softly in English, "I'm yours. So please..."

He couldn't form his sentence. Even he didn't truly understand what he was asking for at that moment. But he soon did.

In that second, those soft eyes had gone hard. Javier's irides were completely blown, that warm chocolate shade had gone dark as the abyss. Before Yuzuru had a chance to even comprehend what was happening he felt his body went flying. His entire body felt the force of impact as he landed on the bed. Before he could make a sound of pain, a dark figure loomed over him, then a hand came down to tighten around his neck, effectively cutting off his air supply. 

Yuzuru instinctively fought back, trying to flip the assailant off him. But Javier had a much bigger mass and a manic glint in his eyes. Yuzuru continued to try and push him, only to found all of his limbs being held down so he was forced to lay flat against the bed. So much magic came crashing down on him, that he saw dark spots dancing before his eyes. It was almost like it intended to pull him apart, a limb by a limb. 

Axel inside him roared in both pain and anger. Yuzuru silently begged for it to keep itself hidden. He felt it violently thrashing against his hold, almost breaking free a couple of times. He used all his mental strength to suppress it, forcing it deeper down inside of him, to a place of sanctuary that he built to protect it. Eventually, Axel relented, as it quietened down.

He knew he had to do something if he wanted to survive the night. At that moment, he vividly remembered Ryuichi, the boy was forced to learn the art of sex at the front of him. Struggles only brought on more beating and pain, while obedience was awarded some degree of mercy. Compliance was his only way out. So he ceased his resistance. Instead, he spread his legs in an act of submission. He moved his hips and rubbed himself against the manhood that was rapidly hardening against his inner thigh in an act that meant to ingratiate and please. 

And it worked. The maniac force was gone, the hand holding onto his neck was withdrawn. He forced himself to smile in gratitude, trying to placate the mindless beast on top of him.  
Javier growled, and Yuzuru found himself being flipped to his stomach like he weighed nothing. His thighs were being parted forcefully, giving way to calloused fingers that roughly opened his entrance wide for what was to come next. He gasped in pain as his virgin passage felt any sort of intrusion for the first time.

But nothing prepared him for the agony that came next as Javier forced his erection inside of him. The blazing pain traveled via his spine and soon engulfed every nerve ending. It became all he knew. A man feasted on him, the exact same way as that pack of men descended upon defenseless Ryuichi. That violent memory was so vividly ingrained into his brain. As it turned out, all men were the same. No matter how they pretended to be otherwise. 

Tears poured out from his eyes, as a hand took firm hold of his hair, forcing his face hard into the bedding, muffling his sobs. For that Yuzuru was grateful. He had no energy left to feign and pretend. He was at least allowed to cry here. For years, his every move and every mood were monitored and reported. He was taught to be quiet, compliant and gratuitous from a very young age unless he wanted himself or his family to experience Empress Hashimoto's anger. So now he finally allowed himself the chance to cry, out of pain and sadness, but also out of years and years of pent-up anger, hate, fear, desperation, and hopelessness. 

Soon, the Prince got tired of fucking an unresponsive body. The hand that was capable to kill landed mercilessly on his butt cheeks with a loud smack, just to get a reaction out of him. Yuzuru's entire body tensed even further as he cried in pain, and it only brought out manic-like laughter behind him, and even harder slaps. The Japanese finally understood what was wanted of him, so he forced himself to fold his knees beneath his stomach, opened his thighs wide open and lifted his ass high, affectively presenting himself for the other man's pleasure. He moved his body in the exact same rhythm as Javier's thrusts, welcoming the intrusion. Javier groaned in satisfaction as he pushed his erection further inside of Yuzuru in that angel as he took his pleasure. Like a windup toy, Yuzuru mindlessly moved, one after another and then another, until all his limbs lost their feelings, all thoughts were wiped from his head, and he became nothing but an empty shell that existed for the sole purpose of other's pleasure.

He lost count of time. By the time Javier finally grew tired of him there was the first sunray of the day peeking behind the heavily curtained windows. He tried to quietly withdraw himself from the Prince's bed, every bone and muscle screaming in agony for what it had gone through. His left foot got tangled up in a blanket and he fell hard onto the floor. He gasped in pain and then looked behind him in fear. To his great relief, Javier, with the last of his aggression sated, was still soundly asleep. He pickup the crumbled gown from the floor, his fingers trembling in both exhaustion and fear as he hurriedly covered himself. He wanted nothing more than getting out of there as quick as humanly possible. He didn't stop running even when he came face to face with the maids who were waiting outside the door to assist in their master's morning rituals. They looked at his state in shock but he didn't care. He didn't stop until he safely stumbled back to his own room. 

He pressed his forehead against the closed door, fervently hoping its coolness could soothe the emotional turmoils inside of him. Before a sob could escape his throat, he felt another presence behind him. He hastily turned around, and there was Akihisa, who had been patiently waiting for his return. Clearly, the man had his eyes and ears inside the house.

"So has our dear Prince finally made some use out of you?" The older man asked.

Yuzuru, who understood all too well that it wasn't the time for him to fell apart yet, collected himself and nodded.

"Show me then."

Yuzuru's fingers, which had been holding the silk gown together to keep himself covered, tightened. He bit his bottom lip so hard that all he could taste was his own blood. He forced himself to turn around, just to avoid the look of cruel amusement. Once again, his fingers loosened, and his only veil of modesty fell to the floor, exposing a body that was made into a playground by a ruthless man. 

Against his pale skin, all the bruises and swellings were even starker contrasts. His limbs were black and blue in the shape of handprints, his ass cheeks red and swollen. There were trails of blood between his thighs along with semen. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the tremor going through his body. 

He waited quietly, as the older man surveyed his body. His heated gaze ran across every inch of his skin, each bruise, each wound a story of what was being inflicted on him without an ounce of restraint. Once he was satisfied with what he had seen, he took hold of Yuzuru's long hair, which by now was a tangled mess soaked by sweat and tears, and pulled it back hard so he could look straight into the younger man's eyes. The fear that Yuzuru did such a poor job to hide clearly amused him, as he laughed in mirth, "Good boy! Looks like you are good at something after all."

With that, he was gone. And Yuzuru's knees buckled. He was finally allowed to collapse onto the floor as he lost consciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

Yuzuru woke up to the concerned face of Tracey Wilson. His brain was a jumble, full of confusion, fear as well as pain as it burnt with fever. It took him a full minute to recognize the gentle face framed by the short blond hair, and those blue eyes that danced with kindness. He struggled to sit up. Fear was ingrained into his body, and as irrational as it had been, his first instinct was to getaway. 

"Don't move!" Her words were firm but full of concern. Her Canadian accent warm and kind, just like that tray of shortbread and a cup of hot tea that she placed at the front him on that day at the Academy. So he complied. It wasn't like his body was in any shape not to. Every bone and muscle inside of him ached with even the slightest movement. 

Her palm went on to cover his forehead to test his body temperature, she then hummed in dissatisfaction, "Sleep now, child. When you wake up again all will be better. I promise." 

That gesture reminded him of his own mother Yumi all too much - an act of love and care that he used to receive whenever he was ill. Medication was always scarce, and most of the time Yumi had nothing but a mother's loving voice and a pair of gentle hands to sooth her sick children. As if being placed under a spell, Yuzuru's body soon relaxed, as he drifted off to sleep. Tracey shook her head in sadness, as she continued to pump him full of healing magic and potions. 

When Yuzuru woke up again the fever was gone, but it didn't mean he was in the right physical and mental state to see Javier being right beside him. Those dark eyes that had shown the extent of their owner's cruelty stared at him. Yuzuru's first instinct was to get away, as he made a mad dash to the other side of the bed. His body too vividly remembered what exactly this man was capable of. Javier caught his convulsing body. Those hands that took him apart so ruthlessly no so long ago now held onto his shoulders, keeping him there. 

By then Yuzuru's brain finally caught up with what was happening, and supplied various possible consequences of his defiance, each of them more terrifying than the previous one - Akihisa wasn't known for giving empty threats, and Javier, an even scarier unknown beneath his kind facade. So Yuzuru hastily pulled himself together and offered himself once again hoping to appease his master. His body was still being healed, with every muscle and every bone aching. So he hoped fervently that his mouth, which Javier hadn't had a chance to sample that night would be sufficed. 

Javier didn't bother to accept his offering. Yuzuru's heart sank as he watched the man retreating from his room, leaving behind a string of apologies. In an emotionally heightened state, he felt every bitter resentment, anger, and despair so acutely that he completely broke down. Tears streamed down from his eyes, as he bit hard onto his own arm trying to muffle his own helpless sobs. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't good enough, was he? A plaything that failed to perform its only function. A fuck toy that broke far too easily under a pair of careless hands. He had to fix this! He had to! Before Akihisa found out about his failure and punished him for it. There were so many things he could do to his helpless mother who was stranded in Japan, or himself who was only allowed to live if he remained useful.

And the Prince never gave him that second chance, as he made himself scarce of the house. He wasn't around at all, not even for a change of clothes in the wee hour of the day before heading out to Cabinet meetings. Yuzuru was left on his own, with Sota as company, and terrified by the uncertainty presented at front of him, with all choices and options robbed of him.

Johnny was the one who laughed at his silliness, "Don't you see? You have achieved your goal."

Yuzuru only looked at his dance teacher in confusion, who decided to come for a visit despite all his lessons had been canceled for the time being. 

"There is always more than one way to achieve your goal, so think with your head and apply your wit."Johnny tsked at him fondly, "For some men, they could be bound with love or lust, while for some others guilt works just well, if not better."

The Japanese's eyes widened as he started to comprehend, "What did you do?"

The older man chuckled, "I said I'd help, didn't I? You made the perfect medium for it to happen." 

His left index finger hooked onto the collar of his own gown and pulled it down, revealing his collarbone and shoulder, all delicate and beautiful. But these weren't what caught Yuzuru's attention. On Johnny's left chest, exactly where his heart was, a complicated magic seal was seared onto his otherwise flawless skin. Even Yuzuru knew what it was, although he had never seen one in person before. The Seal of Diabolus*, the magical equivalent of castration - a branding that shut down all magic coursing through a person, affectively making them non-magical. This was the most severe form of punishment in all realms apart from the death sentence, reserved only for those who had committed most heinous crimes. 

"But I have my little secret, just like you do too." His blood-red lips curled. His tone was light and teasing and yet Yuzuru couldn't help but tense up under those searching gaze that seemed to delve into his soul. 

"Let me tell you a little secret, child," Finally Johnny decided to take pity on that boy, with a laugh he changed the topic, "No magic could conjure up emotions or feelings out of thin air. All it's capable of is reshaping and enhancing what's already there. So whatever you choose to do with this information, understand this - all that aggression and violence exist in that man to begin with. I merely brought his deepest and darkest desire to the surface, the ones he tried so hard to hide."

Yuzuru swallowed, his body involuntarily trembled as it remembered all too well of the man who was always so kind until he wasn't. 

"You have wrapped that man around your little fingers already. Now learn to use your newly acquired asset. And use it wisely, child, and it would benefit you for many years to come." 

Johnny grabbed hold of the younger man's hands. And Yuzuru's first instinct was to pull away, still emotionally and physically raw from what was inflicted upon him. But Johnny held them in tight grip, so tight that the skin between his fingers started to lose its color as blood circulation got cut off. Yuzuru gasped in pain, which the older man overlooked. A finger by a finger, he pried Yuzuru's hands open, revealing bloodstained fingertips with nails being torn off by his own teeth in anxiety, "But first of all, you will need to learn to mask your emotions better."

"I still don't..."

"You will see," Johnny's beautiful lips curled, as his eyes narrowed in secret mirth, "Soon enough."

And Yuzuru did.

Seven days later, Tracey visited the house again, and this time she was being accompanied by his English tutor Nanami Abe, who acted as a translator.

She laid out a letter of acceptance to the TCC Academy, and an outline of classes that he was recommended to take based on his previous induction assessment. Given his weak academic foundation, he was suggested to take a wide variety of basic classes to build a more solid groundwork first. She patiently explained that the new term would start in a week and he was welcome to join them if he was up to it, or an extension could be offered if required. Nanami faithfully translated each word, but Yuzuru was confused as ever. 

"Prince Fernández wishes to support you. And a formally recognized education could be a good place start, should you choose." Tracey explained.

At that moment, Yuzuru finally understood what Johnny had meant. Javier had granted him his protection. And it was his for as long as he wanted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note:  
Diabolus*: devil in Latin. 
> 
> I've done a mid-week update as a thank-you for all of you who had given me kudos and the lovely comments for the last chapter. I hope you will enjoy this chapter too.
> 
> The next update is probably this Friday. Just want to focus on Skate Canada this weekend. Can't wait to see Yuzu competing again!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning: bullying and attempted rape.
> 
> A bigger chapter in celebration of Skate Canada, as well as Yuzu and Javi winning the FCEJ Awards for their friendship. Best of luck to Yuzuru for winning his very first Skate Canada gold!

Yuzuru and Sota packed their bags, moved to the on-campus accommodation at TCC Academy at the beginning of the winter term. Even though Javier had left a message for him via Nanami that the Fernández House was to be his residence for as long as he wanted, he declined. He wasn't going to force his own master out of his house.

The on-campus accommodation made up of 10 multistorey buildings, with each level segregated for a student and their entourage. It was mainly geared toward those in the upper-middle class, such as sons and daughters of Canadian government officials, foreign dignitaries, or successful business people. Each floor was well furnished and included its own kitchen, bathrooms, balconies and multiple bedrooms. The commoners who were granted entrance to academy through academic merits lived off-campus, in much more affordable arrangements. So did the Princesses and Princes of various countries, whose parents bought them lavishing houses off-site. 

Yuzuru had never had so much space all to himself. He looked at every piece of tile and carpet on the floor, every painting on the wall, and every chandelier on the ceiling in awe. It was so much extravagance just for two people, to the point of being overwhelming. He was thankful to have Sota chatting animatedly next to him who looked at everything with his childish excitement and providing a much-needed distraction. 

Then he found out the Prince had even set up a bank account for him, with a significant sum of stipend being deposited into it monthly. The maids, the chiefs and his English Tutor Nanami also came later. Although they were all organized by Javier, they were to be his employees, with him paying their wages so they were his to retain or dismiss. That meant they were to serve him and his interests, instead of being hired to manage and surveil him. Yuzuru was completely dumbfounded by Javier's generosity and the amount of freedom that he was being granted for the first time in his life. 

"See, how well guilt works in your favor?" He could almost hear Johnny's voice, full of glee, "I told you so, didn't I?" He swallowed hard, suddenly being plagued with a sense of guilt. But ultimate he was a selfish person. After suffering from years of scarcity and confinement, he held onto everything that was given to him in greed.

His first and only visitor was Shoma, who welcomed him with a tray of maple sponge toffee. They enjoyed the deep, rich caramel flavor of the maple syrup, a very distinctively Canadian twist on this particular sweet treat amongst the three of them.

Shoma was also the one who took him to a campus tour. TCC was one of the oldest schools in all realms had a long history. It was built by the British who were the first ones to settle down on this land. Despite the various renovations and expansions over the years, the buildings still retained a strong influence on English collegiate architectures. The campus was quartered by the faculties, which included Political Science and Warfare, and Magical Training and Research, Medicine and Health, and Arts and Social Sciences. TCC had long been regarded as the finest educational institution in all realms. Its influence encompassed literally almost all countries, with countless famous royalties, politicians, generals, and researchers being their alumni.

Yuzuru partook on a wide range of entry-level classes. Students were assigned based on their academic levels, so it was common to see a wide range of age groups in every class. In the beginning, Nanami accompanied Yuzuru to all of his classes, helping him to understand his coursework due to his limited English ability. 

From the very first day, Yuzuru had drawn a lot of attention. And he didn't need to understand English to know that people were gossiping behind his back. After all, it wasn't every day that a plaything got to attend the most prestigious academic institution with all the elites of the society. But exceptions were to be made for royalties, apparently. 

The elites thought it was beneath them to share classes with someone who was so far below their social status. And the commoners disliked him for how some strings were being pulled in order for him to be accepted into the academy. Nanami's constant presence only helped to solidify his image of being poor academically, but Yuzuru didn't have much choice. Without her support, he had great trouble following the classes.

Bullying was an everyday occurrence. From harsh words to physical confrontations, children who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths seemed to found great joy in coming up with new ways to torment their victim. And it became a game to see if any of them could topple the others. Some of them enjoyed taking matters into their own hands, while some of the others found it too beneath themselves to get their hands dirty. Either way there was never shortage of lackeys who would gladly carry out their orders. 

Yuzuru often found his clothes being cut to shreds after his physical combat class, or with defamatory words written all over his locker. His schoolbooks were frequently being replaced by Kama Sutra, and various other books on sexual pleasure because his tormentors believed it was the only subject he needed to excel in. 

They stopped him in the middle of the campus and took pleasure in pushing his frail body to the floor again and again. They taunted him about what he was going to do once the Prince grew tired of him. Perhaps to the street, they said, or being passed onto other powerful men's beds. Their repulsive gaze ran all over him, prying into the mask of indifference that Yuzuru struggled to hold onto. It was a little too close to too the truth, after all. 

Yuzuru's English improved rapidly under Nanami's guidance. By his eighth month in the academy, he was able to attend the classes on his own, with her providing further tutoring outside of school hours only. But it only meant he understood almost every word being hurled at him that was meant to mock and humiliate. 

Nanami never interfered. She only ever watched from the sideline. For that Yuzuru never blamed her. It wasn't in her job description to protect him after all. She was only his tutor. As his need for language assistance decreased, the tutoring started to go beyond the school curricular. Since Javier never placed any constraint on what he could learn, Yuzuru used the opportunity to gain knowledge of art, history, and politics of Japan as well as the rest of the realms, and any other subjects that caught his fascination. He dedicated much of his free time studying, not only because it was a privilege he wasn't granted for most of his life. It also served as a good distraction from everything that he no control of.

Shoma tried to put a stop to all the bullying. His own status certainly held influence within the Japanese crowd, but not so much with the other spoiled brats from Canada and abroad. And soon he found himself being a target as well. Yuzuru, who didn't want to see others being dragged into his own mess, tried to put some distance between them. But it was met with much indignation from Shoma. 

"Look, I appreciate you taking my side, but it's not necessary." Yuzuru tried to reason with the younger boy.

"Was it necessary for you took that hit on the shoulder when you saved my life?" Shoma challenged back. And for that Yuzuru had no answer. He didn't even know what got into him that night and made him save his enemy's son.

"Yuzu, aren't friends supposed to help each other?" Shoma's big eyes were full of care and earnest, as he made a grab for Yuzuru's hands, "Aren't we friends?"

Yuzuru's first instinct was to pull away. His body and brain still vividly recalled what physical contact could lead to. It was a lesson so well learned and it became seemingly impossible to unlearn. But then he saw the hurt in Shoma's wide innocent eyes, so he conceded. It took all he had to keep himself still.

It was Shoma, for god sake! The boy who had never ever hurt him! But a dark voice inside his head cynically supplied, "So didn't Javier, until he did."

"Of course we are. Thank you, Sho-kun." Yuzuru forced a smile onto his face. But his words were sincere.

Even months after that night, physical contact from another person was still difficult to tolerate. It made him more much susceptible to bullying. Nothing attracted a pack of hungry wolfs quicker than a weakened prey. It was all in his body language, the way he subconsciously lowered his head and cower, the way he stumbled backward and shied away whenever someone got close to him, the way he unconsciously shrank his own body in vain hope that he could make himself so small that he'd be overlooked by his tormentors. 

Eventually, the bullying escalated further. It was on a cloudy afternoon that Sota and he were corned by David Barkell and two of his friends. Nephew of the Minister of Finance Lee Barkell, David was one of the few who took excessive pleasure in harassing of Yuzuru, almost to the point of a pathological obsession. Every day, he would come up with a new way just to see how far he could push Yuzuru, and bask in all the attention he got from his peers while doing so. 

The three of them chased the two Japanese to a secluded corner of the academy, where another three of his friends awaited. With a storm looming there was no one around, perfect for the six of them to form a trap. Sota was very quickly incapacitated. A hit to the back of his head had him dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, leaving Yuzuru to fend for himself.

Yuzuru screamed Sota's name, as he watched three of them kicked and punched the fallen boy, just to get a kick out of inflicting further pain. After all, a servant's life meant so little for these at the top of the social hierarchy. 

"Please! Please make this stop!" Yuzuru begged desperately. His words only triggered more laughter from the assailants, but he continued like a prayer. He had no idea who his words were directed to, for he had never been a believer of the God of East or the God of West. 

David had Yuzuru pinned to the ground, while his two other friends held him down. Yuzuru tried to struggle out their control, only to have his clothes torn open, and being made into a makeshift robe to tie his hands above his head. Yuzuru's eyes widened, suddenly understood what was about to happen to him. 

Then those hands wandered onto his body, as they licked their lips hungrily. John unzipped his own pants and stroked his own penis quickly to get himself hard so he could have a taste of Prince Fernández's newest toy.

Fear and panic completely overwhelmed Yuzuru, as the older boy approached. Memories of his first time all came rushing back to him, the fear, the anguish, and the forced obedience, and how every act, struggle or compliance was met with more pain. "Not again! Not again!" He screamed hysterically. For a second, all Yuzuru could see was a brilliant light before his wide-opened eyes, then there was nothing else.

He woke up feeling water soaking through the pants that had been ripped open. The rain had come down in full force by now that he could barely keep his eyes open. It was so quiet around him though. Not a sound other than the rain hitting on the ground, the grass or the leaves. He struggled to sit up, his breath labored. It was then he realized every inch of the ground before he was covered in a pool of blood. Then he saw David and his friends, all 24 pieces of them. He just sat there, in shock, unable to comprehend what was right in front of him. 

Then he heard a loud scream, tearing through the silence like a sharp shard of glass. It was so full of terror that it almost didn't sound human. It was a sound that he didn't know he was capable of making. 

Both the Head Master and the Head Mistress came, so did the campus healers. Yuzuru's entire body convulsed so hard he was basically none responsive to any of their probing and shaking. He had to be carried off from the ground and taken to the medical ward along with Sota who was still conscious. 

It wasn't until Tracey placing a cup of green tea between his trembling fingers that he was finally jolted out of his own world. He found himself being covered by a blanket, with a scent of freshly brewed tea filling his nostrils, and everything felt like a nightmare he just woke up from. 

Yuzuru refused an examination of his own physical condition. He told Tracey he wasn't hurt, to her dissatisfaction. She, being the finest healer in the realm was the last person he wanted to be examined by. 

Her eyes were kind and yet knowing and Yuzuru couldn't help but freeze under her gaze. It took him a second to realize that she already had a chance to do a full medical examination on him when he was unconscious back in the Fernández House. He could only pray that she was sufficiently distracted by all of his injuries to pay attention to anything else.

In the end, she relented. "Yuzuru, I'm your teacher and a healer. No matter what, I'm on your side. So come to me whenever you are ready." She said, slowly, to ensure Yuzuru had no trouble understanding every word. 

"I don't know what you are talking about." He muttered as he forced himself looking into her eyes, with all the sincerity that he could feign. 

To his great relieve, Sota didn't suffer any permanent damage. He was released from the medical ward in three days with the assistance of magic healing and potions. 

And to his great surprise, his name was kept out from the incident in the official story, and the victims' families never tried to contradict it in any way. It was said that the six of them broke curfew and got robbed and murmured in the seediest part of the town. Yuzuru could only assume Javier played a part in this. Still, words managed to get around. After all, nothing spread like gossips and insinuations. No one touched their Second Prince's property without suffering consequences, they all said. 

Johnny showed very little sympathy in Yuzuru's plight, on the other hand.

"If you don't want to be a victim, then stop looking and thinking like one." He said, while his ferule landed on Yuzuru's back hard. His student bit back a wince of pain, and keep his shoulder straight and head held high as he moved on to the next position, which garnered a nod of approval. 

Akihisa had relinquished his control over Yuzuru for the time being, but his dance lessons with Johnny continued. In the beginning, he only took these lessons because Akihisa had demanded such. He continued with it once he started studying in the academy because it was perceived to be appropriate for someone of his status. After all, his usefulness laid within his ability to please and pleasure. And this could be a valuable skill set to have. Now he took these lessons because the dance studio was a cocoon, a shelter against all the chaos in the outside world. He got to forget about who he was for a few hours each day as he bent and straightened his body in graceful arcs and lines. Each of his steps and movements was freeing and liberating, as he felt his sweat pouring out from every pore on his body. His eyes glinted with intense focus as his long hair somehow always managed to escape the tight braid he secured them in, sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. 

He found himself saddened that he didn't get to start his training younger. It was far too late now with his body and bones already being set. He knew no matter how hard he trained, there would be a limitation on what he could achieve, and that knowledge caused a sense of disappointment in him. 

However, Johnny disagreed, "To be a good dancer it's more than just having technical prowess. One could be the greatest technician in the world, but if they fail to move their audiences, it would all be for nothing. So be a performer instead. Hold your audiences' hearts in your hands. It's absolutely intoxicating once you get a taste. Trust me."

Yuzuru took these words to his heart. And one day, he found himself a different person, as everything he learned in his dance lessons transuded through to his daily lives. Physical training and a good diet put on much-needed muscles on his slim frame. He might still look as slender as before, but beneath his fine clothes he started to develop a body of a dancer, lean and graceful, enduring and powerful. 

He walked differently, talked differently, and interacted with people differently. He had a new aura of confidence around him, and it showed in every step he took, and every word he spoke. He learned to gauge people, read them like books, and catalog his findings into his head for future reference. He learnt to put on show. And depending on the audience and the story he tried to weave, he put on a different persona. The fear and insecurity were still there. And they would probably always be, being an ineradicable part of him, but he had learned to mask them. So all everyone was going to see was a beautiful and sensual image that he wanted them to see. Those who outright bullied him eventually backed away. It wasn't that fun when your prey didn't respond as you anticipated, after all.

People still talked, but very differently now. They called him the keeper of the Spanish Heart, for he was the only person who managed to hold Prince Fernández's attention for more than one month. 

The Prince from Spain was well known for his good looks, charming personality and his notorious reputation when it came to relationships. So many beautiful people in both genders had tried, each of them exquisite and gorgeous. While many of them managed to get into his bed, but that was the extent of it. The Prince always set his ground-rule from the start - no strings attached. Many of them stepped into the game believing they would be one to turn the table on him, but none had succeed so far. 

When it became clear that Prince Fernández hadn't lost his interested as he continued to ensure Yuzuru to receive the best of everything, the tune of their gossips changed. Now they wondered what kind of magic Yuzuru had managed to weave into the Prince's heart, or exactly how good he was in bed to continue to capture the Prince's attention. They rumored and speculated, and their fascinations about him grew like wildfire on a windy day.

And by then, Yuzuru had learned to wear those looks and those words like an armor, every one of them enhanced and glorified him. People revered in his beauty, his allure, and his charm, their eyes dark and hungry. Yuzuru smiled, that slight curve on his lips was enough to entice them, so they came to him like moths being drawn to the flames. And that boy, still weak and fragile, was safely hidden in the deepest part of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Lee Barkell: is a Canadian figure skating coach, working with both singles and pairs, and a former competitive pair skater. His past and current students include Jeffrey Buttle, Nobunari Oda, Gabrielle Daleman, Stephen Gogolev, Liubov Ilyushechkina/Dylan Moscovitch etc. He currently coaches at the Toronto Cricket, Skating and Curling Club. 
> 
> David Barkell, who is featured in this chapter, is an OMC only.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so deliriously happy from Skate Canada. Omg omg omg, thank you, Yuzu for giving us such a magical weekend. So many firsts already in his first GP assignment:  
-1st Skate Canada Gold (4th time's the charm apparently)  
-1st person to land 4T-Eu-3F combo in an ISU competition  
-The highest gap to the 2nd place finish in history - 59.82 points  
-Getting PCS WR in both SP & FS  
-His 3A in SP is the first and only GOE +5 jump under the new scoring system.
> 
> Yuzuru, best of luck for the remainder of the season. Stay healthy!
> 
> As a celebration, here is a new chapter. Please enjoy!

Despite having no recollection whatsoever, as he had truthly informed the Head Master and Head Mistress, Yuzuru did manage to work out what actually happened in the afternoon that David Barkell and his friends were killed. It did take a few months though.

The dreams started soon after that afternoon. In the beginning, he often found himself without any recollection of them the moment he opened his eyes. He gasped for air as his sweat-soaked hair and clothes clung onto his body, while those vivid flashbacks retreating to a dark corner inside of him that he could never reach in his awakened state. There was an irrepressible urge to chase after them that went much further than just plain curiosity. And it had only grown stronger as each night went by. 

So he did. Night after night. Eventually, the fragments came, a piece by a piece. And it took a long time for him to be able to patch them together. But eventually, he remembered. 

He remembered a barrier forming around him, a web made of rays of lights, so shiny and bright. It was so warm and calming inside of it. Tears still trickled down from his eyes, but it was nothing more than a purely physical reaction. It was almost like he was being drugged, all of his fears and anxiety reduced to nothing within seconds. All he felt was being enveloped in a warm cocoon as he watched an invisible force gone after the six assailants. 

One by one, they were being levitated from the ground, their legs kicking like they were fighting against an invisible tidal wave. Yuzuru marveled at how much they looked like insects being caught in an invisible spider web from that angle, with their limbs dangling in the air. Then something, perhaps a force, went after them, one by one, like a sharp knife going through softened butter. Right before his eyes, each of them was being quartered with incredible precision, as blood spurting in the rain forming a pool beneath them. There was so much of it, so very intensely red at first, but soon it was diluted by the fallen rain to form various beautiful shades of pink. Yuzuru couldn't help but think about the fallen sakura petals brought down by heavy rain as he had read in books but never gotten the opportunity to see. One by one, they would form a layer on top of the soil, coloring the ground in the prettiest shades of pink. The last of their fleeting beauty being visible to the world before their existence was completely eradicated at the end of the hanami* season. Just like the ephemerality of life, beautiful and short. 

Strangely, he felt no anger, no sadness, no shock, just a sense of utter serene as he watched each life being extinguished right before him. Then he heard a giggle, it was so full of joy and amusement as a pair of arms encircled his shoulders from his back, "Don't cry, Yuzu, my treasure. See, I fixed them for you." 

He recognized that voice, that laughter, those arms, and those fingers instantly. They were ingrained into his mind after all, just like every memory he had of her. Her eyes danced with kindness and love whenever she held him in her arms. Those same pairs of hands that wiped his tears away, patching him up after the guards had their fun of pushing him around and watching him fell. Those fingers, which carved out little soldiers and swords from wood for him after he broke his one and only toy. 

"Onee-chan**," He gasped. Even though he knew it couldn't possibly be. Saya, his beloved sister, had died when he was 10 years old. He had seen her being carelessly tossed to the floor, her naked body rolling out of a blood-stained sheet, her once flawless skin entirely covered with wounds and scars.

And he heard it giggling, "Such a good boy, Yuzu. You still remember me."

Yuzuru gagged at those words, the ones favored by Akihisa when he deemed Yuzuru's behavior worthy of being praised. But this was "Saya", who had always loved him, protected him from harm. So he basked in these words, in its praises, even if they made him physically ill.

Axel, or "Saya" grew more restless ever since it made its presence known. At first, it demanded more energy. "I need to be stronger so I can protect you, Yuzu." That sweet voice would whisper, as Yuzuru felt an invisible force held him down, and all of his magic reserve being pulled out of him, leaving him completely drained and heaving on the floor. He had tried to reason with it, but it was always in vain. "Saya" had shown very little mercy. And as it grew, and it did rapidly, the more demanding it became.

"I have to be stronger quickly because they will come for us soon. And this time they will kill both of us!" It scolded him.

Yuzuru knew who exactly it meant - the scientists and scholars who were delighted when they found out about Saya, the first person in 50 years to possess magic in Japan. They saw her as the only key to unlock the mystery surrounding the lack of magical people in the population. They were so delighted that they couldn't wait to cage her in their labs, to study her, to put her under all sorts of experiments until her young body couldn't handle them anymore and simply gave out. And imagine how delighted these people would be when they find out that they had a second specimen to study, a second chance to continue their work.

"Trust me, Yuzu." It pleaded in that soft and loving voice of hers. And Yuzuru always found himself relenting, being completely powerless against it.

Strangely, he did begin to feel better after each feed, after that. His eyes became brighter, and cheeks colored with vitality, as his body felt stronger and more alert. And "Saya" always, always rewarded him. For the first time, he was so clearly aware of the magic inside of him, a bright force of power that coursed through his veins. "Saya" had opened the door to another world for him, and now he wanted to know more about what was on the other side.

His curiosity led him to seediest part of the town, where money could buy virtually anything. Surprisingly, discretion was well practiced by some of the more reputable merchants, so their customers wouldn't need to worry about their purchases being tied back to them as long as their prices were right. He purchased books on magical training in secret. And with "Saya"'s help, he started to venture into them behind closed doors, in the darkness of the nights.

He started to see people around him differently. Not by their social status, their powerful or privileged background, but just as people. People with vital organs such as the brain, the lungs, and hearts that kept their bodies functioning, major arteries that carried blood, bones and joints that held their bodies together. Vulnerable people made up of vulnerable parts that he could easily break should he choose to. 

"Have you seen how they look at you? Like a piece of meat on a butcher's block?" 

"Did you hear what they call you behind your back? A slut who has no use out of a bed?"

"Can you see what they fantasize about you? To have you on your knees right before them? To have your lips stretched around their cocks?"

Day in day out, "Saya" would whisper in his ears, its voice honeyed and provoking. And Yuzuru couldn't help but felt such a fit of strong anger burning inside of him, like a volcano close to eruption. 

"Don't you want to tear their eyes out?"

"We could go for the limbs. One by one."

"Go for the heart! Come on! Just imagine how it'd feel in your hands!" 

"Just cut that artery right on the side of his neck! Let the arterial spray paint the wall behind you as you get your first taste of blood."

"Saya" tempted him, every hour of the day. Its sweet voice filled with glee. 

Logically speaking, Yuzuru understood very well that how bad this advice was. After all, his survival relied on him laying low. The moment he showed any sign of magic, Empress Hashimoto would take him back to Japan as Saya's replacement in their scientific projects. But as the days went by, the temptation fuelled by anger only got stronger. And it was getting harder and harder to restrain himself. 

Sota found out about his secret a few months down the line. It was a stormy night, with nonstop loud thunders and lightening. Sota, who was always afraid of them, came to his room to seek his company. Yuzuru was shocked when he realized that he was careless enough to keep his room door unlocked that night. And Sota was just as shocked to see a swirl of water on Yuzuru's palm, like a mini vortex. 

Yuzuru snapped his fingers shut as his eyes widened, the water dispersed into droplets before disappearing into the thin air. Sota jumped up and down in the excitement of a child, exclaiming it was the coolest thing he had ever seen, with the raging storm outside long forgotten.

He begged Yuzuru to show him again. And Yuzuru, who was forever weak in the presence of those big puppy eyes, gave in. He took a deep breath and chanted the incantation as he willed the element to come to him. At first, it was only a drop of water, then another, then another... Soon they accumulated faster and faster and started to gain momentum to forming a little vortex between his fingers. Sota's eyes were wide with wonder and admiration, his face brightened up so much by his excitement that Yuzuru couldn't help but reveled in it. 

Hours later, they laid side by side in Yuzuru's bed as they laughed and giggled. Sota told him repeatedly how amazing he was. It wasn't until Sota said, "Don't worry, Yuzu, your secret is safe with me." that Yuzuru realized what a massive mistake this had been. 

He sat up and watched Sota's peaceful face after he fell deep into sleep. His own heartbeat sounded like drumming in a room that had gone deadly quiet once the storm had receded. This child, despite his innocent nature now held Yuzuru's life in his hands. And Yuzuru just couldn't let it happen. 

So he looked at Sot as he slept. The arteries on that frail neck pulsing as blood coursed through them to every corner of that small body. They called to him, and despite the darkness in the room, he could see them so clearly. 

Yuzuru extended his hand, his index finger touched the one on the left side of the neck gently. He felt the life force and the blood flowing below his fingers, and all he needed to do was to say the word. A word that could cause a few drops of blood to solidify like any liquid would under the right temperature. Then the newly formed blood clot would travel to the lung or the heart, and Sota would be dead like the winter grasses long before the healers arrived. And by then the blood clot would have re-liquefied. A perfect murder committed and no medical examiner would be able find a course of death that could arouse any suspicion.

"Yuzu... I'm so proud of you..." Sota murmured in his dream, his voice small and so genuinely filled with happiness. And it shook Yuzuru out of his little own world. It was like finally waking up from a long nightmare for the first time in a long time. His entire body trembled as he realized how close he was about to commit murder to a boy who he practically considered a brother. 

Yuzuru made a mad dash to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet bowl before he emptied his entire stomach of every single thing that he ate for dinner. He happened to caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he rinsed his mouth. He saw nothing but a stranger standing there, staring back at him with eyes so dark, so full of malice that they looked like dark abyss waiting to swallow him whole.

He went to Headmistress Tracey Wilson's office the first thing in the morning, "You said I could come, so here I'm. Help me please."

\---------------------------------------

On the other side of Canada, there was a house under heavy curtain spell that guaranteed it to be invisible to any form of detection.

There were only two people there, each dressed in a black cloak that shimmered with magic. Even under the dimmed lights, their hoods were still lowered to obscure their identities. Their cloaks were held in place by identical insignias which were accented with blood-red rubies and ocean-blue diamond stones.

Despite many years of friendship, they only knew each other by their codes - the countries they represented, never their true names or their position in their respective countries. A tentative friendship built on certain mutual benefits and shared interests, instead of trust or loyalty. But it was the best either could hope for, given their positions both inside and outside of their organization.

"Magical signatures have been detected inside that floor, multiple times," the one sitting by the fire said, his Canadian accent heavy. 

"But do we know for sure?" The other countered. Despite his best afford, his Japanese accent still came through, "Yuzuru Hanyu was hardly the only person living on that floor. He had various servants, cooks, and tutors coming and going all the time."

"Have you heard about what happened to David Barkell, the nephew of the Minister of Finance Lee Barkell?" The Canadian one asked, his tone incredulous. 

"Of course I have. I've even seen the post mortem reports. Even if that boy is magical, there is no way he has enough magic or has ever received enough magical training to do this. Have you seen how they died? Don't' forget these were students from prestigious families. They had been receiving magical training from the moment they could walk! David Barkell was even one of the best in his Magical Combat class." The other asked, "Would you be able to that with your bare hands? One against six, without sustaining any visible injury?" 

They went quiet as they both contemplated. Both of them were vividly reminded how these six people dead, how each of them was quartered with perfect precision as if measures were made by using a rule. Something not even the best swordsman in this land could do with the sharpest sword. 

"They could be killed by anyone holding a grudge against them or their families. Lee Barkell is hardly an angel. Not to mention it could be Prince Fernández making an example of those who dared to infringe on his property. Either way, we must be sure before we report this to the Council." 

"Yes, of course. Yuzuru Hanyu has attracted far too much attention. It wouldn't be easy if we decided to get rid of him. So we better be sure before we take on such a big risk."

They became quite as both of their thoughts wandered to that ancient house, which was tucked away in a secluded forest in Lausanne, Switzerland. A barely furnished room inside housed the Council, with nothing but a table carved out of an ancient bristlecone pine tree and 13 chairs made of pure gold. 13 chairs for 13 people, who represented 13 different countries and 13 different sets of interests. And this matter would certainly cause a lot of tension between them. Although all 13 countries managed to reach a consensus before they took action 200 years ago, the consensus might not have remained the same given the changing circumstances over the years. So they must be absolutely sure before they brought this case before the Council once again. 

After all, time revealed many things, including hidden agendas, lies and treacheries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need a reminder as to who these 2 people are, please refer to chapter 3.
> 
> Translation note:
> 
> Hanami (花見)*: or flower viewing, is the Japanese traditional custom of enjoying the transient beauty of flowers. It's a spring tradition of admiring blossoms - usually sakura, and less frequently, plum. People gather under the blossoms for food, drink, and song.
> 
> Onee-chan**: older sister in Japanese


	10. Chapter 10

Tracey spelled locked her office door shut before she started running a series of diagnostic spells on Yuzuru. Yuzuru sat on her sofa and kept his eyes closed as he followed her instructions when it was given. As she completed each one, the crease between her eyebrows deepened. 

She then followed it up with a range of questions about his childhood, especially on what magical rituals he had undergone or performed himself. Yuzuru recounted however since his childhood, both he and Saya went through a range of examinations testing for magical traits, every year without fail. Saya was discovered to be magical when she was 8 years old. Yuzuru, who was only 4 back then didn't understand what it meant. 

In his young mind, she was "lucky". She was allowed to go outside of their dungeon five times a week because she was "special". And that silly boy who was confined in the darkness with only two hours of daylight each day was happy for her, just as much as he was jealous of her. He couldn't stop asking her about what the outside was like, what it was like to be surrounded by daylight, to have grasses and leaves beneath her feet, while flowers bloomed and their sweet scents being carried away by the wind. 

She was always so patient and loving as she answered each one of his questions. And Yuzuru was always fooled by the beautiful imageries that she portrayed with her words and the feigned happiness on face, that he always overlooked how she was always pale as ghost after she returned from one of her "trips" and the faint scent of blood that lingered on her skin. The lack of light hid so much, so lies looked just as real as truths in the shadows.

The only time she ever got angry with him was when he said he wanted to be "special" just like her, one day. He still remembered the burning sensation of a hand landing on his cheek. He laid on the floor, completely stunned, as he struggled to understand what just happened. Then he felt his sister's trembling hands as she held his face between her palms, with tears trailing down her face. There was barely any daylight at the point, but Yuzuru could see her so well, the pain and the anguish in her eyes. 

"Oh," He thought. And suddenly everything made sense. So he stopped asking all those questions. He didn't want to see the facade that she bravely put up for his sake. So instead, he just sat quietly by her side after she returned, hoping his own thin shoulder was strong enough to offer a tiny little bit of comfort. 

"Don't ever say you are 'special'. Never Yuzu!" Saya made him promise, and Yuzuru obeyed. He kept his mouth shut when he did become "special" soon after his 8th birthday. There was nothing different about him on the outside, and yet he knew. It was just a feeling, but he had never understood anything with such a level of certainty. Interestingly he still managed to pass his yearly magical examination, as he willed it to be. 

"I became aware of 'Saya' when I was 10 years old, not long after Saya passed away," Yuzuru said.

"Whatever it is, it's not who you hope it is," Tracey replied, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

Yuzuru laughed bitterly, as Axel's laughter echoed mockingly inside of him. Part of him had always known this, no matter how much he desperately hoped for otherwise. Saya, his beloved sister, would have never used words that aimed to humiliate or manipulate him, would never put him in harm's way. The only time she ever got upset about him was out of desperation and fear for him. He should have known better! But hope born out of desperation produced nothing but a cheap imitation, a disgrace to her memory. 

Tracey had gone through her own personal library for a book that looked ancient. Despite being well kept in a special bookcase protected by magic, its pages were yellow and frailly thin with passage of time. She flipped through the pages until she found the chapter on magical possessions. It was written in ancient Latin, so she had to translate the relevant passage for Yuzuru.

This was how the Japanese learned there was an ancient ritual called magicae possessionem*. There were only very few cases documented because it was the darkest of dark magic, forbidden in all realms. And it was for a good reason. 

It was one of the few last resorts pulled by desperate people in desperate times. They used their own blood and magic as lure to call upon ancient entities of unknown origin so two became one. This way, the hosts would gain a significant boost in magical power for a certain period of time as provided by these magical entities, but it came with a price. As repayment for their services, these entities feasted on the hosts' magical cores. The more power the hosts commanded the more they must give back in return. They lost themselves in the process, little by little until they completely relinquished all control of their bodies. And once their magical cores were depleted, their life forces would be next, until there was nothing left of them. 

Tracey had tried to soften her words, but Yuzuru had no difficulty understanding the true meaning behind them.

Yuzuru closed his eyes, suddenly understood why Axel had been so inclined to manipulate him both emotionally and physically. Its goal was to trap him inside its game, with rules that he didn't even know about. The more he lost control of his emotions and actions, the quicker he lost himself in this battle of wills. 

"But Yuzuru, I'm not completely sure," Tracey continued, clearly trying to soften the blow while being as honest as she could, which Yuzuru appreciated, "Your case seems to be different to other documented ones though. You didn't initiate the ritual and thus willingly invited it into you. And Axel, as you call it, has been with you for nearly 7 years now, which is unheard of. And it has demonstrated an incredible level of sentient, with ability to reason, imitate and manipulate, unlike the others. Like I said, my knowledge on the subject is limited." 

"How much time do you think I have left?" Yuzuru asked. Strangely he wasn't feeling scared or hysterical. Most likely because he was still trying to process all this information.

"I don't know for sure," Tracey answered, her words carefully constructed to be perceived as hopeful, and the sadness still came through, "Weeks, months or even years. I would say it's largely depending on you and how much control you have over yourself and Axel. I would suggest you study magic properly, in both theory and practice, so you could learn to distinguish between your own wishes and desires versus its influences, and find a way to only draw upon your own power, instead of its."

Tracey had offered to be his private tutor for his magical training in secret after Yuzuru explained his predicament with Empress Hashimoto and her team of scientists. Their lesson started immediately, one hour at the end of each day in a dungeon made undetectable by spells. 

It was a brand new experience to learn magic systematically, instead of trial and error based on instructions from books coming from not so reputable sources. Tracey had gone above and beyond with her duty as a teacher, for that he was extremely thankful.

And yet Axel mocked him, "How do you know you could trust her with your life? Apparently, your trust could be bought with a couple of cups of tea. What a naive child you are!"

"I don't have many choices, do I?" Yuzuru taunted back. Axel went on to fill his head with more doubts but he had learned to ignore them, just like the endless temptations it presented to him every day, inciting him to use its power. It was hard but he was beginning to learn.

His second birthday in Canada approached before he knew it. He celebrated his first one with just Shoma and Sota a year ago, and he didn't see any reason to deviate from this new tradition. And this year, instead of clothes and books, Javier sent him a set of montsuki haori hakama**, and a set of priceless teaware as his birthday presents.

Yuzuru had no experience in Japanese formal wear, so he asked for Nanami's help in getting him dressed on the day. A white hada-juban (underwear) was put on first, followed by a naga-juban (underkimono) and a han-eri (decorative collar) in the same shade. It was then followed by the kuro montsuki*** kimono, then the hakama****, a pair of long pleated pants that were to be worn over the kimono, and then a haori (jacket)***** to finish the look. Lastly, the haori was to be secured in place with a haori-himo******, a white round cord with a pompom. The haori was decorated with the Hanyu kamon (family crest)******* in 5 different places, honoring of his lineage and his family history. 

The kuro montsuki kimono was made with high-class Japanese silk called habutae********, which was repeatedly dyed at extremely high temperature, a special process employed since ancient times. It ensured each individual fiber was coated in intense color in order to eliminate reflection of light. This resulted in an intense and darkest possible shade of black that gave the clothing a regal look. 

But what stood out more was the hakama, which was made with sendaihira*********, one of the most prized silk material in Japan. It was only produced in Sendai, the land where the Hanyu clan was said to originate from. Enduring and fade-resistant, it was a rich and soft material with a beautiful sheen. It was widely praised for its ability to create beautiful and refined looks. Its softness and stiffness, as contradicting as they might sound were its most acclaimed features. Hakama made with such precious material showed no wrinkles when its wearers sat and became smooth, straight and stiff when they stood. Back in the days, only highest ranking lords and the members of the imperial family were allowed to wear clothing made with sendaihira. Dyed to a beautiful shade of grey, the hakama had seven deep pleats, two on the back and five on the front. The pleats were said to represent the seven virtues of bushido, which was considered essential to the samurai way. 

Yuzuru looked at himself in the mirror in delight. He was 17, on the verge of adulthood and finally started to look like one. He had managed to shed his old skin and donned on a new one, all refined and beautiful. He had wished his mother was here, to see him like this. Perhaps a little comfort for her sorrowful heart. 

As part of his birthday celebration, Yuzuru had invited Shoma and Sota for sado**********, eager to show off the teawares given by Javier. 

They might look ugly and badly made to most people, like how Sota frowned when he first saw them being displayed. However, for those who dedicated their lives to the tea ceremony, they found beauty in their unrefined and imperfect forms. Back in Heian*********** period, the artists tended to leave their creations in the hands of the God of East. They used to shape their pieces by coiling bands of clay, instead of using potter’s wheel. And in the kiln, they purposely allowed ashes to settle on them, and dripped down on the sides, resulting in natural irregular ash glazes. As result, their ultimate appearances were often unpredictable, shaped by the forces of fire and the natural characteristics of the clay. This aesthetic conformed with the Japanese traditional aesthetics wabi-sabi ************, which celebrated imperfection, spontaneity, and appreciation of the ingeniousness of nature. 

Shoma's face lit up the moment he laid eyes on them. Yuzuru smiled, he was glad someone who was taught about beauty and art from a very young age was here to appreciate such beauties. These ancient objects had been passed between tea practitioners throughout the generations. As famous tea masters discovered and recognized specific qualities in the glaze, shape, and texture of these, they gained artistic merits. These contributed to their pedigree, increasing their value.

Yuzuru, who was often the guest in such practices, got to be the host for the first time. It was one of the few things Yumi and he were able to do together, as they managed to make do without the expensive tools. They found alternatives out of what they possessed, and they were sufficient enough. 

He went through the cleansing ritual as she had shown him countless times with a high degree of concentration, his movements graceful and precise. He placed down the perfectly cleaned utensils once he was done. As if guided by her careful hands, he measured out three scoops of matcha************* and then added them to the chawan (tea bowl) **************, followed by a small amount of hot water. He whisked the water and matcha together with masterful grace that mirrored hers to make a thin paste first, then he added more hot water to the bowl to get it to the right consistency. Once it was ready, he presented the bowl first to Shoma, as he was the main guest of the day.

Upon receiving the bowl, Shoma took his time to notice and reflect upon the warmth of the bowl and the color of the bright green matcha against the dull clay before he began to drink. Yuzuru smiled as he watched. He had always appreciated the feeling of holding of chawan in his hands as well, his mind fully immersed in the moment. A state of serene that came with a sense of peace, a precious moment shared between a mother and a son, however fleeting it might be.

After he had drunk his share, Shoma wiped the rim of the bowl clean before offering it to Sota. And Sota, who was far too young to appreciate the beauty of sado grimaced at the taste. Yuzuru barely managed to choke back his laughter because it was inappropriate. 

After the bowl was retrieved, Yuzuru cleaned and rinse the bowl, ladle and whisk. Shoma examined each of the teaware items with great interest, and pointed out fascinating observations to Yuzuru, while Sota showed much greater interest in the namagashi (sweets)*************** that was served as part of the ceremony. 

Yuzuru watched them both, his brothers in every way that counted other than blood, and fondness filled his heart. Sado had always been very special to him, a moment of closeness and intimacy that he had only ever shared with his only living relative until now. Now he had found so much joy in sharing what he loved with two people he cared deeply about. And despite a ticking time bomb inside of him, he was truly content for the first time in a long time. He was blinded by his own contentment that he failed to see the way Shoma looked at him, it was anything but brotherly. 

But his happiness didn't last long. The next day, he found Akihisa at his front door, a monster out of the nightmare that he had just started to forget. How could he be so stupid?

"Pack your bags, child. Your arrangement with Prince Fernandez has concluded." He ordered, "You will be of more use elsewhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Magicae possessionem*: magical possession in Latin
> 
> Montsuki haori hakama (纹付羽织袴)**: a set of Japanese traditional formal clothing for men that consists of kuro montsuki kimono, haori and hakama.
> 
> Kuro montsuki (黒紋付)***: a formal kimono with family crests. It's worn by men for formal parties or ceremonies. It is considered the most formal kimono for men.
> 
> Hakama (袴)****: a type of traditional trousers, they are tied at the waist and fall approximately to the ankles. They are worn over a kimono.
> 
> Haori (羽織)*****: a traditional Japanese hip or thigh-length kimono-style jacket. It does not close like the yukata, but is worn open or kept closed by a string that connects the lapels called haori-himo.
> 
> Haori-himo (羽織紐) ******: a tasseled, woven string fastener for haori.
> 
> Kamon (家紋)*******: Japanese emblems used to decorate and identify an individual, a family, or an institution or business entity.
> 
> Habutae (羽二重)********: a thin, soft, durable Japanese silk, used in the manufacture of garments.
> 
> Sendaihira (仙臺平)*********: silk fabric with 400 years of history. It has been designated as a National Important Intangible Cultural Asset in Japan. 
> 
> Sado/chado (茶道)**********: also known as chanoyu (茶の湯), or Japanese tea ceremony, is a ceremonial way of preparing and drinking green tea typically in a traditional tearoom with tatami floor. Beyond just serving and receiving tea, one of the main purposes of the tea ceremony is for the guests to enjoy the hospitality of the host in an atmosphere distinct from the fast pace of everyday life.
> 
> Heian (平安)***********: the last division of classical Japanese history, running from 794 to 1185. It is the period in Japanese history when Buddhism, Taoism, and other Chinese influences were at their height.
> 
> Wabi-sabi (侘寂)************: a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete". Characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and appreciation of the ingenuous integrity of natural objects and processes.
> 
> Matcha (抹茶)*************: finely ground powder of specially grown and processed green tea leaves. 
> 
> Chawan (茶碗)**************: a bowl used for preparing and drinking tea. 
> 
> Namagashi (生菓子)***************: Japanese wet confectionery that contains 30% or more moisture. They may contain fruit jellies, other gelatines such as Kanten or sweetened bean paste.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Yuzuru's look for the sado:
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/n6cjQSX)  



	11. Chapter 11

Yuzuru quickly schooled his expression, but it was far too late. His shock, anguish and fear were for all to see in that split second. And it amused Akihisa greatly.

"But... I belong to Prince Fernandez..." He tried to reason.

"Really? How many times has he taken you to his bed?" Akihisa jeered, as Yuzuru struggled to come up with words, "I have no idea why he kept a toy around when he had no use for it. But people like him with endless means, probably believe in kindness and charity and all these impractical things, all to make them feel better with their moral superiority complex. But even that has its own limit, it seems. He has probably found his next charity case to spend his kindness on, one he actually enjoys fucking." 

The younger man lowered his head in both anguish and shame. As it turned out, Javier's guilt had an expiry date. And his own shameful exploitation of it finally came to an end. 

"But I don't want..." 

For his insolence, he received a slap on his face. He landed on the floor, with his body thrown off balance by the impact. It took him a few seconds to realise exactly what he had said out aloud. Time away from Japan and Akihisa had clearly lowered his guard. He was becoming careless with his words, as he was with his actions.

"How dare you to think you are entitled to have an opinion now?" Akihisa's tall and broad figure stood over his fallen form, blocking the source of light in the room. All Yuzuru could see was a dark silhouette looming over him, and a pair of eyes that were full of mockery. 

"You have forgotten your place. Did you honestly believe living like a master for a year and a half would make you one?" The older man laughed, "I was always against you going to this school, but our kind Prince insisted. But like every kindness he ever bestowed on you, it would only bring you harm eventually."

Yuzuru could still hear the resounding of the slap in his own ears, it was so loud that it was almost deafening. It left a red welt behind, just below his eyes, made by one of the many jewelled rings on Akihisa's fingers. He dizzily tasted blood in his mouth as the entire right side of his face stung. He should have long been used to physical violence and emotional trauma because they were a source of fun for those who were responsible for him. According to them, "little compensation" for being "inconvenient" by his existence. Strangely, they all felt so unfamiliar now, like a distant memory, when it had only been a year and half in reality. 

"Just say the word, and I'll put a stop to all these. No one would ever dare to use you like a tool, fuck you like a toy, or humiliate you like the dirt beneath their shoes." Axel's honeyed voice was back, sugary sweet and tempting against all the humiliation that burnt inside of him.

And yet Yuzuru stubbornly kept his mouth shut. 

"Let me remind you what you truly are, a slave with chains and bolts. They may be invisible, but they are there. Don't fool yourself." Akihisa reminded him, "Remember your mother Yumi Hanyu? She is still in our hands, and what you do and what you say determine her fate, so think of your next words carefully."

Yumi, who found herself a widower after her husband killed himself. It was not long after Saya's death. Perhaps the sense of helplessness was the final straw that crushed that once proud man. And yet Yumi kept going, knowing she was the only person left to shelter their youngest son. It was her thin frame that kept him away from hurt, her gentle hands that soothed his body which was weakened by malnutrition and asthma, and her wise words that comforted his soul. 

"Don't touch her." Yuzuru swallowed his pride, not that he should have any to begin with, and begged. He scrambled to his knees, his hands holding onto Akihisa's hem desperately.

Akihisa was only too happy to lift his right foot to step on those hands, placing his entire body weight on them, just to hear Yuzuru's barely suppressed groan of agony. Spoiled brat needed to be put back to his place, after all.

"I never understand what Prince Fernandez saw in you. After all, there are plenty of beautiful toys out there. But I supposed not all of them would have a great family name as yours, a surname that adds value to your services, making you a prize that is worthy to boast about."

"But it doesn't change what you are, Yuzuru. Know your place, and be grateful that Empress Hashimoto has extended her genuine kindness to you and your family, overlooking your lineage and flaws, and finding a use for you. "Akihisa continued, pretty much the same words that Yuzuru had been made to listen to since he was born, with slight variations here and there. 

"I'm eternally grateful. And I'll do anything that you command as repayment for your kindness." He numbly repeated what he had been taught to say since he was old enough to talk, as he folded his knees beneath himself, placed both of his hands on the floor, and bowed down until his forehead touched the floor. 

Then he felt his upper body being lifted off the floor. Akihisa tilted his face toward him, as he inspected his subject, before finally letting him go. Yuzuru lowered his head, desperately hoping whatever he saw was enough to appease the man.

"Gain favour with your next master like your life depend on it. Don't be as sloppy as you had been with Prince Fernandez. This one won't be so easily fooled by your sobs and tears." At last satisfied, so with these parting words the older man finally left. 

Two days later, Akihisa sent his maids and servants to Yuzuru. Yuzuru, who had anticipated this, had sent Sota out to do various errands throughout the city for the entire day while he packed his bags himself. A letter would be ready for him in his bedroom upon his return, a brief explanation and enough money for him to live his life elsewhere, away from the influence of the Japanese delegation. Akihisa had seemingly forgotten about Sota, and Yuzuru just had enough courage left to take a risk. He couldn't bear the thought of his young friend following his footsteps in a few year's time.

Some of the maids laid out his clothes for the night, while the others bathed him. Scented oil was applied to every inch of his body, ensuring it was supple and silky to the touch. Then clothes made of expensive silk and sateen draped over him, layer by layer, in various shades of blues. Then came the various pieces of jewellery, dazzling and gleaming under the lights, such sharp contrast to his own eyes, vacant and dead. 

Yuzuru looked at himself in the mirror, all the injuries caused by Akihisa had been easily healed with a few magical potions, so he was whole and beautiful again. It was almost like looking at a reflection of time. Stripped out of the amour that he had adorned himself with, the facade of confidence that he had painstaking crafted, what was left was merely a fear-stricken child who had no say in his own destiny.

Here he was, the exact same place he was at a year and a half ago, getting ready to be paraded to his next master. Only this time, he had known what life could have been like. A taste of happiness, freedom, friendship and material abundance, things that were never meant for people like him. It was like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to found himself back in his own reality. All thing he had taken for granted dissipating in the thin air with first ray of sunlight. 

The maids announced that he was ready, then the servants escorted him to a black carriage outside. At nightfall, they discreetly set off to the south side of the city.

The Chan Palace was just extravagant as Fernandez House, but Yuzuru could hardly pay any attention. Anxiety had long faded away in the last 2 days, leaving behind a sense of numbness. He remembered the Crown Prince Patrick Chan, from the welcome party at the Royal Palace when they first arrived in Canada. His eyes were so dark and hungry as they consumed him, just like he was doing now. 

Yuzuru bowed as a greeting, and kept his head down because he wasn't instructed otherwise. Patrick took his time in examining him, as he walked in circle around him. 

"There is never shortage of men and women, all beautiful beyond words, offering to warm my bed, either out of their own ambitions or their masters' biddings. Tell me why I should consider you." It was the first thing Patrick said to him, after a long period of intolerable silence. 

"My prince, Yuzuru-" 

Patrick cut Akihisa off before he could utter another word, "Let the boy talk."

Yuzuru only bowed lower. He didn't have a chance to read Patrick further, and uncertainty weighed heavily in his heart. So he chose to appear meekly as possible. 

Unfortunately, it was interpreted as defiance. For that, he received a punch to his stomach. He doubled over, as pain clouded his head. But in those mere seconds he had a good look at the man. Dark eyes, black hair with clear Chinese ancestry, Patrick was compact, muscled, and build like a warrior. Gratification shone in those eyes, as he evidently took pleasure in Yuzuru's suffering. This was a man who clearly held a vendetta against him, and he had no idea why.

"You have no idea who I am, haven't you? Does my last name mean nothing to you?"

Yuzuru bit his lips as he struggled to search for information inside his head. Apparently, he took too long so he received a kick on his back. The pain paralyzed him momentarily, as he remained on the floor and struggled with his laboured breathing. 

"The Chan family. Great Battle of Cheng Yang." Axel helpfully supplied, "Did Nanami teach you nothing?" 

Yuzuru finally made the connection. Chan was a common Chinese surname, so it took him a while. Back about 400 years ago, just before his namesake ruled over half of the world, he took his army to China. The border general at the time, Chan Yong Guang, the General of Eternal Light, was regarded as one of the fiercest warriors at the time. At the Cheng Yang City Gate, he and his army put up a valiant fight. Emperor Hanyu, who had already conquered countless cities and countries, faced a worthy opponent for the first time in a long time. The battle, which was recorded as The Great Battle of Cheng Yang by historians, raged on for months. Emperor Hanyu had the city surrounded, after cutting off all of its food supplies. He vowed to kill every soldier and every military official and their families inside once he took control of the city unless they surrender to instil fear in them. Yet the General of Eternal Light and his army fought heroically to the last man, long after exhausting their last grain of rice. When the city finally fell, the General was taken to the Emperor, and the Emperor gave him the last chance to surrender out of respect for his courage and fierce warrior spirit. He only laughed, as he made a grab for one of the guard's sword, making one last attempt at the Emperor's life. He died with multiple swords going through his body. 

Emperor Hanyu ordered his entire family to be executed, honouring his own words. All of the Chans were killed, including the distant relatives, all 300 of them. The only person who was able to evade such fate was the youngest son of General Chan who was studying to be a scholar in Beijing. The act itself might be cruel, but the neighbour cities learnt to fear the Emperor and his troops. The next one opened its gate voluntarily, and the Emperor kept his words, treated all citizens, soldiers and civilians alike with kindness. His troops were very well disciplined, no killing, torturing, raping and robbing ever took place. The city went back to its normal life the next day. Upon seeing this, the next 10 cities followed suit and opened their gates peacefully. Within a month, the Japanese army took over a quarter of China without further blood spilt. Hundreds and thousands of military and civilian lives were spared.

Regardless of how historian had debated about humanity vs. necessity over it, no one could deny Emperor Yuzuru Hanyu was a great ruler and a strategist who was well versed in the art of war, merciless and yet benevolent. 

Upon seeing the recognition and fear in his eyes, Patrick was pleased, "Sit up straight, boy, and prove your worth to me."

Yuzuru struggled to do so, favouring his stomach and back that were still in pain, even though he had no idea what Patrick's intention was. Before he could comprehend what was going on, his jaw was being held in an iron-like grip forcing it open wide, before two fingers were shoved inside. 

"Show me what you could do with that mouth. Mr Nagashima said you are particularly talented with it."

Yuzuru gagged helplessly around those fingers as they went for this throat. All he could do was to suck them like a cock, as his tongue cradled around them, pulsing against their undersides like he had been shown what to do with a jade dildo a long time ago. Soon, Patrick forced in the third, then the fourth finger in as well. Yuzuru couldn't help but instinctively wanted to get away, before he was choked to death. Before he could, Patrick's spare hand went for his hair. Those powerful fingers grabbed a fistful of them, to keep him in his place at first. But before long, he used them as leverage to move his head. Yuzuru was made to bobble his head passively, feeling helpless as his mouth stretched painfully to accommodate those digits. His throat constricted violently as he fought to keep his gag reflex in control. He was sure the Prince wouldn't be pleased to see him throwing up on his shoes. Not that he had much in his stomach to begin with, as he was barely able to keep anything down in the last a few days. 

The Prince wasn't satisfied until he pushed his entire hand inside of that mouth, feeling the moment those fragile jaws giving away and unhinged. Yuzuru's groan of pain was muffled, but still very audible, which brought out a chuckle from his tormentor. 

Finally, Patrick was satisfied, and those fingers were withdrawn. He looked at his own saliva drenched digits in disgust, before wiping them clean on Yuzuru's long hair. Yuzuru laid on the floor, panting and gagging as he struggled to get air into his lung. His dislocated jaws were wide open, saliva mixed with blood formed a pink trail that leaked from the corners of his mouth. Despite the expensive jewels and silk, he looked every bit of the broken toy as he felt to be.

"How the great house of Hanyu has fallen." Patrick tsked, as he examined his work, "People like you treat powerful men and women like notch in their belts, each of them an accolade to boost your value. Too bad, I won't let someone like you soil my bed."

"I, however, do have about 200 servants and guards, and 50 guests who come and go all the time. I'm sure you will provide adequate entertainment to them in my house." He concluded, "And by the time they are done with you, you will be thrown to the seediest whorehouse while thanking me for my kindness."

Yuzuru closed his eyes in despair, conceding himself to his fate.


	12. Chapter 12

Contrary to the threats coming from the Crown Prince, Patrick didn't follow through on his words for many days. One of the servants rushed in and whispered into his ear. A smile of amusement appeared on his face as he side glanced at his new prisoner before he gave his order to the guards. As per his command, Yuzuru was taken to a shed that was built deep inside the Chan Palace, by two guards and personnel. 

Yuzuru managed to sneak one last look at Akihisa, who looked smug and satisfied, clearly content with whatever deal he had managed to strike with Prince Chan. Not that he expected the older man to come to his aid, but some part of him had been naive enough to hope that his future usefulness might mean something to that man. But clearly, toys like him were easy enough to come by. Akihisa was ready to milk out the last ounce of his usefulness before discarding him like a piece of garbage.

Perhaps it was the sense of inevitability that made him laid still like a mannequin when the guards decided to help themselves once they reached inside the shed. Yuzuru was pushed onto the floor, all those fragile silk and sateen broken like paper in the hands of that were trained to kill and maim. Yuzuru forced himself to stay still, as those hands roamed all over his body, even though his entire body tensed up a piece of string being stretched to its limit. His brain vividly reminded him of the consequences of defiance, how Yuta's resistance and begging only ever resulted in escalated violence. At that moment, fear had clouded his judgement, as well as the sense of dread, but the lessons were ingrained into his brain so much that it was almost instinctive to follow it at that point.

These men were in awe of his long limbs, a waist that would comfortably fit between their own hands, and baby soft skin that was so smooth that their calloused palms literally glided across it like it would silk. They called him the beautiful Japanese doll, as they licked their lips hungrily, their growing bulges barely concealed by their light armours.

However, they were called off before they could get any further. The personnel who accompanied them were not in any sort of uniform that represented the Chan Palace, and yet his command was obeyed almost immediately. They bowed and excused themselves, leaving the two of them alone. 

That man crouched down, his hand reaching out to brush aside the sweat and saliva stained strands of hair that were stuck onto Yuzuru's face, presumably to get a better look of him. Yuzuru ground down his own teeth and kept himself as still as possible, even though his entire body quivered uncontrollably against those fingers. 

It did give him a good view of the man at the front of him, who was practically at his eye level in that position. He was surprisingly young, no older than 15, yet he had an aura of confidence that far surpassed his age, not arrogant per se, but still expected to be obeyed. Despite being against the light, Yuzuru could still see his smaller built. It was a body that was still going through puberty. He had black hair that was cut short for convenience instead of fashion, and dark eyes that scrutinised him, weighing him up. He was very distinctively Asian, judging from his features, but clearly not Japanese or Chinese. Perhaps Vietnamese, Yuzuru supposed.

"Don't be afraid, the time hasn't come yet." He said candidly, "No one is allowed to touch you until Prince Chan has officially announced his plan for you." 

These words, with no sense of false hope or sugar-coating, and yet they somehow managed to calm Yuzuru down quite a bit.

He bowed, silently offering his thanks before the young man walked away. As the door was shut behind him, Yuzuru was left in complete darkness, with his own heartbeat ringing in his own earrings. 

Toronto was well into its winter season in December. The temperature had fallen sharply to as low as -3°C (26.6°F). The blizzard raged on outside of the little shed that was his newest home, as intense gusts made the days and nights icy and frigid. Patrick clearly wanted to keep him as alive for now. The shed, despite being used as a storage facility for the hays were warded against the cold, otherwise Yuzuru wouldn't have survived his first night there. Food was also delivered three times a day. There were basic and minimal in quantity, but they never ceased to come. Using their frequency as basis for timing, and combined with the amount of natural light he could see each time the door was opened, he had no trouble gauging the passage of time. 

That young man did return a day later after Yuzuru left his breakfast, lunch and dinner untouched. He took one look at Yuzuru, a jawline that misaligned with the rest of the face so badly so it slated to the right, and a mouth that was stiff and unable to close and he left. He took away a tray of sandwiches and came back with a bowl of rice porridge, which was easier for Yuzuru to consume in his current state. Yuzuru acknowledged his kindness with a mumbled thank you. At that point, his face was so swollen that speaking was difficult.

No one came to treat him, and he didn't mind that, despite the pain that he felt every time he subconsciously tried to move his jaw in order to eat or swallow. He suspected no one would dare to come unless Patrick gave explicit order, and for now, he seemed to have completely forgotten about the newest toy he just acquired. Or it could simply be a tactic to keep him stewing in misery and anxiety. Either way, Yuzuru was glad to be left alone. He was used to them after all - that sense of uncertainty and fear that he grew up with under the thumbs of Empress Hashimoto. Darkness was his oldest companion, just like desolation in every breath that he took. It was all too familiar and somewhat comforting in the strangest sense, perhaps.

On the 8th day, the door was unlocked once again. And this time a tray of food wasn't pushed in. Instead, that same young man had returned. 

"Prince Fernandez has sent a carriage for you. And you are to go back to him." He said.

Yuzuru's eyes widened in astonishment. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Part of him couldn't help but thought perhaps it was a trap set up by Patrick, and another part of him wanted it to be true so badly that he didn't care. 

He struggled to stand up, amongst the hays that he piled together as a makeshift bed for himself. His torn clothes slipped off one of his shoulders and barely covered his exposed thighs. His fingers grabbed onto the various broken materials, desperately holding them in place to preserve some of his dignities. 

That younger man wordlessly took off his own cloak and draped it over him. Yuzuru looked up in surprise, as his fingers tighten against the thick material. He soon lowered his head as he felt his tears flooding in his eyes. Sometimes a tiny bit of kindness was far more effective at breaking people than pure cruelty.

"Patrick isn't always like this," He said, almost apologetic. He diverted his eyes to the side, clearly intending to give Yuzuru a bit room to process his feelings, "He's been taught to remember the tragedy of his family history since a young age."

With those parting words, he escorted Yuzuru out of the Chan Palace. Just outside of its gigantic gate made of steel, a carriage with the Fernandez family crest awaited. Yuzuru welcomed the warm air inside as he stepped inside, but he was ill-prepared to see Javier there.

His first instinct was to be as far away from him as possible. Fear had been hardwired into his body, even just being confined in the same space with the older man brought out flashbacks of that night, those hours of pleasure that was built on his pain. He made a dash for the far corner of the carriage as he stumbled. His body trembled uncontrollably, now all of his mask and amour had been stripped off him so he had nothing left to protect himself with. So he curled himself into a fetal position, almost childishly hoping that he could make himself as small as an air particle so no one would pay him any attention.

Javier immediately backed away from him, hands raised with his palms facing outward, trying to communicate that he meant no harm, "I'm sorry that it took so long to get you out of there. If you rather not see me, I'd go. Just say the word, Yuzuru."

That immediately raised all sorts of alarm bells inside of the Japanese. If there were a lesson in this whole ordeal, it would be how vulnerable he was without Javier's support. He wasn't stupid enough not to understand the importance of trying harder. 

So he swallowed his fear, and forced himself to lift his head, ensuring the older man had a good view of his battered and bruised face, as he pronounced each word as he clearly as he could, "Please don't leave me again."

Just as he anticipated, Javier's warm chocolate coloured eyes were filled with pity and sorrow. Apparently, guilt still worked like charm, for the time being at least. Even though it was as fragile like any master's interest in their fuck toys, but it was the only weapon he had in his hands. Before it completely lost its control over Javier, he had to work out a way for either the man to fall in lust or in love with him, and he had to do it quickly.

After all, it would be much easier, and preferable, to endure while serving one man than hundreds more. 

\-----------------------------------

Patrick braced himself against the harsh wind as he walked amongst the trees with their bare branches decorated with snow. The younger man who visited Yuzuru during his stay was right by his side. The two of them left behind two sets of footprints in the thick snow. 

"I can't believe you let him go." He said.

"Nam, I'm still capable of rational thoughts and rise above my own feelings," Patrick laughed quite, "Even though many of you didn't seem to think so."

Nam guiltily bowed his head. He was the one who informed some of Patrick's top advisers and convinced them to reason with the Prince out of fear, after all. 

The Crown Prince casually waved him off, "There is no need for that, you and your family have always had my best interest in your heart. I could never fault you for that."

The Nguyen and Chan families were intertwined ever since the day Nam's great grandfather rescued Patrick's grandfather on a heavily snowed day, just this like this one. Patrick's grandfather, who had lost his parents in the war, was a young orphan like many others who sought better lives in a distant land across the sea. Many died on the boat, but he survived, only to find himself dying from cold and hunger in a dark alleyway in Toronto. The Nguyens took him in, raised him alongside with their own sons and daughters, like one of their own. Out of respect for his lineage and wishes to carry on his ancestral line, they allowed him to keep his family name. 

They were families in every possible way, other than blood and surnames. Later on, Patrick's grandfather made his fortune in trade and property, and Patrick's father ventured into the Canadian political circle and managed to build enough influence and support to make his son the future king of their nation. The Chan family's wealth and influences were always extended to the Nguyens, until this day, hence Nam's position of authority in his highness' circles of friends and advisors. 

Nam saw right through Patrick from the beginning, the eruption of hatred and anger that accumulated for centuries. He had thought about all the worst possible scenarios, one of them being Patrick becoming so obsessed with his enemy's suffering that all of his ambitions and goals forgotten. He had even thought about killing the Japanese, a merciful act for both him and Patrick. But before he could start his planning, they were both surprised by Prince Fernandez's request for a meeting to discuss Yuzuru's ownership. 

At first, Patrick refused him a few times, as a mean to gauge how serious Javier was. And yet the requests continued to come, each one more urgent than the last. When Patrick finally did agree to that meeting Javier was desperate enough to consent to anything, including the ownership of a rural area in the north of the country that equated to the size of Toronto, very valuable for its rich mineral and magical resources, and the deciding vote on a bill that he had tried to pass in the past 12 months but failed to secure majority votes from the Cabinet.

Both of them were taken aback by the lengths the Prince was willing to go for a toy that he enjoyed for more than a year and half, despite the saucy gossips and rumours that had been circulating in the royal court. 

"At least now we know even Javier had a weakness, what a pleasant surprise," Patrick commented, still amused by Javier's barely concealed desperation. The Heartless Spanish had a heart after all. 

"Plus it didn't mean I'm willing to let my feud with the Hanyus go. I'm just giving that boy a bit of breathing room until I make my next move," He continued, "Let him have his false sense of security in the arms of his protector for now. When time is right, I'll strike again. After all, there is nothing like falling from height of happiness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally hitting both 100 kudos and 100 comments marks. Thank you so much for your support. Please continue to do so.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations Yuzu on his NHK win and going into the GPF with highest total scores in the field! What an achievement! So proud of him!

Yuzuru was taken back to the Fernandez House. Inside the iron gate with the gigantic Fernandez House Crest, laid the familiar grand square, courtyard and galleries, and his bedroom that remained untouched. Every piece of decoration, book, and clothing, everything that he didn't dare to claim as his own was still there, exactly where he had left them over a year ago. He looked at Javier in surprise.

"I had hoped you would come back here one day." The Prince said. He avoided Yuzuru's gaze, out of a sudden burst of shyness and ever lingering guilt.

Yuzuru's eyes widened, strangely touched. This was a man who clearly cared about him, out of guilty conscious or not. He had wanted to express his gratitude, but the words were nothing but hard lumps that were stuck in his throat. 

"You don't have to keep anything if they... remind you of bad memories. I could even get you a different room... "Javier was clearly rattled by the silence, so he hurriedly added.

The Japanese shook his hand. He reached out and held onto to Javier's hand, just for a bare second. It was an act he forced himself commit, a simple of gesture of appreciation, one of the many steps he was willing to take in order to bind Javier to him. Strangely, it wasn't nearly as unbearable as he had anticipated. Javier's hand was warm beneath his own fingers, solid and real. The Spanish looked up in surprise, and a smile appeared on that handsome face briefly. It was the first time they had truly looked into each other's eyes. Yuzuru stared into these dark orbs that were so full of compassion and care and managed a small smile on his own despite the swollen muscles. For a second, he almost forgot it was all an act. 

"I'll be back." The older man promised, as he briefly touched Yuzuru's swollen cheek. And this time the Japanese didn't flinch away. 

Inside his bedroom, Tracey already awaited with her medical kit. 

His dislocated jaw was relatively easy to fix. She placed her thumbs against the lower back teeth inside his mouth, then her remaining fingers under the jaw. With a steady grip on it, she moved the mandible back into place. Potions were applied to speed up the healing process and reduce pain, but she still put a supportive bandage around his head to hold the still fragile jaw in place while it healed. 

Yuzuru mumbled his thanks, knowing she had taken the time of out a very busy day to see him, even though it was most likely out of courtesy to the Prince. 

Tracey sighed, her blue eyes clouded with compassion and anger, "Slavery and human trafficking are banned in Canada. You should have come to me or Javi."

Yuzuru smiled bitterly. For that moment, he was glad that he could barely speak, because he didn't quite know how to explain that chains and bolts were not always visible, and yet he felt them so acutely. Nonetheless, he was moved. The concept that anyone outside of his own family, no matter how friendly they appeared to be, could be kind enough to care was still so foreign to him, even though he had received a fair share of it since he left Japan. It was a luxury that he barely had in the first 15 years of his life, after all. 

Tracey didn't try to touch him again, familiar with his aversion to physical contact, even though he had managed to mask most of it in recent months. She reminded him that her office door was always open for him if he ever needed anything before she left.

Sota was practically a sobbing mess as he waited outside, waiting for Tracey to complete her treatment. As soon as she was gone, Yuzuru found himself a lapful of a boy who was hysterical and devastated. He wanted to ask why he was still here, whether he got caught by Akihisa. He couldn't bear the thought of what that man would do Sota. Surely his cruel heart would see that as an act of betrayal, and he wasn't known for his tolerance toward those who dared to defy him.

Between the tears and uncontrollable sobs, Sota told him he never tried to leave. When he got home that night and read the letter that was left for him the first thing he did was going straight to Shoma. Shoma, who was all too happy to use his status to pressure Akihisa's subordinates for information on his whereabouts. Then both of them went to Javier, knowing full well that none of them had the power or the resources to influence the Crown Prince of Canada. 

To be honest, none of them had much hope. Despite all the material wealth that Javier had bestowed Yuzuru with, there wasn't really much else that suggested the Prince was attached to the Japanese in any shape or form. In spite of all the juicy gossips and speculations, no one had ever seen them together publicly. To both of their surprises, Javier took it upon him to resolve the issue, without even a moment of hesitation. 

In the next few days, they visited the Prince for updates and shared their frustration and fear as the Chan Palace continued to avoid and divert all of Javier's request for a meeting. But it did change. None of them knew what the Second Prince had ultimately agreed to, but it was clearly significant judging by the uproars amongst his advisors. And Javier silenced them all, even as he was subjected to numerous uneasy looks shared by his inner circle. 

Yuzuru felt tears sliding down from his face, knowing full well how brave Sota had been. Akihisa was a bully with seemingly endless influence and means, and it was beyond stupid in trying to defy someone like him. And yet Sota swallowed down his fear and did it anyway, risking his only chance to freedom. 

"Silly Yuzu," Sota said, he chuckled as he tried to halt his own tears without much success, "As if I could ever leave you!"

Sota was relatively easy to comfort. Yuzuru struggled to talk with the bandage tightly held in place, so he resorted to nodding. He nodded for so long that he felt his neck hurt, but he didn't stop until a smile finally appeared on Sota's face, after he wiped his face dry of tears and helped him to blow his nose. 

Shoma, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. He stormed into Yuzuru's room the next day, and proceed to shake him hard until the older boy groaned in pain as his body protested such rough treatment. Shoma quickly let go of him and proceed to fuss as he tried to see whether he was hurt. As soon as the younger boy made sure he was OK, he schooled his face to a mask of indifference, then he stormed off. 

Then he went ahead to ignore Yuzuru for the next two weeks, despite the older boy's repeated attempt to reach out and reconcile. Yuzuru was sad and yet bewildered. He had no idea what could have upset his friend so much. And no matter how hard he tried to corner Shoma for an answer, it was like he had mastered the magic of foresight and managed to dodge him whenever he was within the vicinity.

It was Sota, who suggested the week-long night market that was taking place inside the Little Tokyo, the Japanese district in Toronto, after seeing Yuzuru's frustration with Shoma. After all, who wouldn't enjoy a night of games and street food?

So Yuzuru sent Shoma an invitation. Despite the lack of response from his young friend, he still went ahead to the night market that night. It wasn't until he waited two hours in vain he realised his friend was possibly a lot more stubborn than he anticipated. He sighed, after he had finished a small tray of takoyaki* bought from one of the many stalls there out of boredom, and asked Sota to send one last message before he declared defeat and headed home.

It did take a while, but Shoma did eventually show up with an uncharacteristic grumpy face. 

Yuzuru smiled, "So you are here finally."

"Well, you did say you have never played kingyo-sukui** before," He grumbled, "I guess I have no choice but to come and help."

The older boy laughed, happy to accept it as a sign of possible reconciliation.

"Grab my hand, so we don't get separated in the crowd." Shoma urged.

Yuzuru hesitated a bit, but the crowd was indeed getting bigger and bigger as it reached 9 pm, with more couples coming in and families with small children leaving. So he took the hand that was being offered to him but failed to see how his young friend's face blushed red as he lowered his head and lead the way.

Yuzuru indeed was terrible at kingyo-sukui, with all of his targets, the goldfishes gleefully swimming out of his paper scoops. Shoma, despite having played the game numerous times in the past, showed a similar level of talent.

They had much better luck at shateki***, where Yuzuru managed to hit one of the bigger prizes with his toy gun and gave it to his young friend. Shoma, who whinged about how he was no longer a child, clutched that teddy bear made with yellow material and dressed in a red shirt close to his chest. 

The two of them did manage to find a relatively secluded corner to talk while sharing a large ishi yaki-imo****. Piping hot, the sweet potatoes burnt their fingers, but not in an unpleasant way as they juggled them between their hands, until their palms got used to the temperature. Peeling back the purplish-red skin, the flesh inside was golden yellow, steamy with a soft aroma that almost smelt faintly like caramel. It tasted sweet and creamy, enhanced by hours of slow roasting inside a heat stone stove. It was so comforting against a cold winter night just like this.

"You could have come to me," Shoma said, finally breaking the silence.

"I didn't want you involved," Yuzuru replied, then added, "Or Sota."

"And yet I did, so stop making that choice for me." Shoma finally looked at him, straight into his eyes, for the first time that night, "I chose to be your friends, so let me be one."

Yuzuru smiled, it was such nice sentiment, but unrealistic one nonetheless. What would Queen Hashimoto do once she found out her precious son was being sentimental toward her enemy, "I would never want harm to come to any of you." 

"And I could never stand by and watch while you were being harmed." Shoma countered passionately. They looked at each other, both being so stubborn and headstrong, either refused to back down. After a long moment of staring contest, they suddenly burst out laughing. 

It was an argument either would admit their defeat. But they were back being friends, finally. 

Javier was an entirely different matter. Yuzuru already had a goal in his head, and being back at the Fernandez House was the first step in this plan. Javier had sent his servants to pack all of Yuzuru's belongs from his on-campus accommodation at the TCC. They began to share breakfasts and dinners together frequently. But between the polite smiles, stolen glances, and awkward conversations, it was a delicate dance that both of them were failing miserably at. 

Yuzuru was completely frustrated, with his lack of progress, with his lack of charm. And with the ever-growing sense of insecurity inside of him, that frustration just continued to grow as each day went by. How long could he manipulate Javier with his guilty conscious, he wondered. Each day he walked out of the Fernandez House with the thought that this day would be his last one under Javier's protection, and it scared him senseless. 

After one of the dinners they shared, Yuzuru broke a very awkward of conversation around his schoolwork with a question of his own before he totally lost his courage, "I have never been to the Aurora Winter Festival, would you come with me?"

Javier halted his own words mid-sentence. He looked so shocked that the Japanese instantly regretted his words.

"Oh- of course!" The Prince blurted out before Yuzuru could excuse himself from the table out of sheer embarrassment. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Tatsuro Matsumura*****, Japan's Minister of Foreign Affairs was enjoying his tenth glass of wine when a figure dressed in black grabbed him from behind and dragged him to a dark corner where no one would pay them much attention. 

Tatsuro hadn't wanted to come to tonight's party. He had been feigning sick in the last few days, refusing all those seeking his time and attention. However, it was difficult to refuse when the invitation came from the High Priest and High Priestess of Canada. His Queen Hashimoto still expected him to perform his diplomatic duty while he was in Canada. So there he was, surrounded by alcohols and laughter, jewels and silks that glimmered under the countless chandeliers, and drinking nonstop to calm his nerves. 

He almost thought he was being overly paranoid until he found himself trapped. After all, it was the 4th hour into the party, and all the festivities were winding down. 

"Hello Japan," The voice came right by his left ear was silky and cold, like the tongue of a snake slithering against bare skin.

Tatsuro quickly made sure he stood at the front his assailant, affectively blocking him from others' views. He continued to sip from his glass, pretending to enjoy it even though every drop had now turned sour and bitter.

"We are not supposed to meet in public! At least not like this!" He growled quietly into his glass, "And how do you even know my real identity!"

"Oh come on," His friend snorted derisively, if what they had could be called a friendship, "We have known each other for more than 20 years. And I'm sure you had used some of those time to dig into me and my background as well."

That he couldn't deny, so the Japanese decided to divert their attention to the more pressing matter, "It's against the Council's rule for any of us to be seen together publically!"

"If you haven't tried to ward off all my attempts in reaching out you, I wouldn't have to resort to this, would I?"

That effectively silenced the protest coming from the Japanese.

"Say your piece and go then!"

"I bear a message from our allies, and all of us are displeased with how you handled the Hanyu situation."

The Japanese swallowed in fear, as he struggled to find words, "I- I thought it was a great way to get rid of that boy! I induced Akihisa into finding a new master for him, a master with his own vedette against Hanyu. A Prince who has enough political capital could easily get rid of that boy in relative secrecy without much consequences. And this way there would be no ties back to the Council." 

"And yet you have failed, haven't you?" His friend hissed accusingly, "Now that boy is under the spotlight more than ever!"

They looked on the crowd, whose tongues were a lot loose after a night of excessive drinking were happily sharing the latest gossips. And all they could talk about was the Japanese boy who apparently held that Spanish Prince's heart so tightly that their Second Prince pretty much prostrated himself before their Crown Prince just to get him back, with no regard to his pride or the political consequences as result. Many of those who were in camp Fernandez shook their heads in disappointment, while those in camp Chan smiled in glee, while their spouses sniggered behind their delicate hands or fancy fans, eyes glinting as they exchanged saucy tales of a boy who managed to capture two princes between his delectable thighs. 

"Fix this! And do it quietly and successfully this time! Otherwise, all of us will reconsider your role in our alliance." Those angry words were spat through clenched teeth. And with those as the part words he was gone, leaving behind a man who shook so badly that he had his drink spilling down the front of his expensive pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Takoyaki (たこ焼き/蛸焼)*: is a ball-shaped Japanese snack or appetizer made of a wheat flour-based batter and cooked in a special moulded pan. It is typically filled with minced or diced octopus, tempura scraps, pickled ginger, and green onion.
> 
> Kingyo-sukui (金魚すくい/金魚掬い)**: goldfish scooping, a traditional Japanese game in which a player scoops goldfishes from a pool with a special paper scooper and puts them into a bowl. This game requires care and speed as the scoop can tear easily. The game is over when the scoop is completely broken or incapable of scooping properly.
> 
> Shateki (射的)***: a Japanese game where players shoot for prizes with toy guns.
> 
> ishi yaki-imo (石焼き芋)****: roasted sweet potato in heat stones. They are sold from trucks during the winter.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Tatsuro Matsumura (松村達郎)******: a retired Japanse ice dancer. He worked as an ice dance coach, in International Affairs for JSF, before joining the ISU. He is currently a member of the ISU Council.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has officially become the longest fic I've ever written in any fandom in any language, surpassing the Kintsugi series. I started it when I was in a writing slump, can't believe it has gone this far. Thank you for your support on this journey.

It snowed on the early evening that Javier and Yuzuru went to the West Island of the Ontario Place, one of the artificial landscaped islands just off-shore in Lake Ontario. The snow wasn't that deep yet, only reaching to the soles of their snow boots as they walked through the snow-covered ground. Each step with soft crunching sound underfoot as they marvelled the entire landscape that was brought to life with magic, lights and laughter of adults and children alike. 

The annual Aurora Winter Festival kicked start on the day of the first snow and ran to early January. Inspired by the breathtaking beauty of the northern lights, this artificial land was transformed into a magical winter wonderland, featuring amusement rides, various mystical worlds to explore, stunning light installations, and a buzzing market.

Lights in imitations of aural colours were everywhere, most of them were in shades of pale green and pink, with red, yellow, green, blue, and violet scattered in between, lighting up the dark sky with eerie glow. 

Between the light laden branches, animals of various sizes, made of ice and snow, roamed the place. The polar bears used their massive bodies as rides for the children, their heavy pawns leaving large imprints on the ice as they carried them throughout the park. Smaller animals such as rabbits and wombats cosied up to them, practically begging to be scooped up and cradled in their arms. The fawns lead by the deer as they roamed in groups. One of them stayed long enough to lick Yuzuru's palm, before taking an offered treat made of snow and retreating back to its friends. Yuzuru giggled, a moment of unfeigned happiness that made Javier stop midtrack, just to stare. 

Together, the two of them walked through tunnels, gates and bridges that were covered with lights. As the night darkens, they shined ever brighter, turning every inch of the land into a magical paradise. Their guards, lead by Javier Raya, one of many distant cousins to their Prince, scattered around them. They were far enough to give them an illusion of privacy, but still close enough to respond should any situation arise. Leaving their uniforms back at Fernandez House, they tried to blend in the crowd, but their military-trained postures and stance were more than enough to give them away. Javier grew up with such attention, so did Yuzuru, though for very different reasons. And both of them found it easy enough to overlook them. 

The ice rink turned out to be Yuzuru's favourite part of the festival. The outdoor ice-skating pond, located at the far end of the island was relatively crowded by the time they got there. Despite the prominence of various summer sports, such as lacrosse, football, soccer, basketball etc., winter sports were still overwhelmingly popular in this country. 

They swapped their boots for the rental skates that they got from the counter. Yuzuru, who had never skated in his life, struggled to get them on correctly. They were just so different from a pair of regular shoes. No matter how he many time he re-laced and tried to adjust his feet to the boots, they just didn't feel right. He thought perhaps they were supposed to be that weird, because how could a pair of boots with blades attached be anything but. But Javier caught his frown as he tested out his balance on the carpeted floor. He guided the Japanese back to the bench, before kneeling down to redo the lacing for him.

Yuzuru's first instinct was to get away because it just felt so wrong to see the older man on his knees before him. Even without a signed deed, this man was one of his many masters in every way that counted. But Javier, who placed his hands on his knees to stop him from moving, just gave him a smile. So Yuzuru remained in his seat, trying hard not to squirm, while the Prince refit his skates for him.

The older man made sure his socks were straightened before placing his feet inside all the way. Then he started to work on the lace, from the toe to the ankle, as he explained what he was doing. He made sure he didn't pull it too tight but still secure enough for grip. He gave it a good tug and pulled it hard as he got to the ankle area, to ensure stability. Then he laced around the hooks in a criss-cross pattern, just enough to give enough room for the ankles to bend. At last, a secure double bow was tied and tucked inside the top of the boots to prevent the blades from catching them. 

The Prince frequently checked with Yuzuru in the entire time, just to make sure he was comfortable. The younger man could feel the heat growing hotter in his cheeks with every passing second, so much that he thought his face must have been on fire. He bit his lips as he looked away, attempting to find a distraction at the far end of the rink. He didn't know what was worse, the incredulous looks that were directed at them from Javier Raya and his subordinates, or a group of young friends walking pass them, whispering to each other between their endless giggles about how adorable they were as a couple.

Yuzuru was more than glad to get on the ice, at least the cold air was a welcome change to his heated face. In his haste to escape from Javier and his attention, he forgot ice was supposed to slippery. He wobbled ungracefully all over the place, as he futilely tried to find his balance until he found himself being secured against a broad chest and a pair of arms.

At that moment, he completely froze. Fear paralysed him, just like. Flashback of having a heavyweight pressing against him, while those arms held him in place as he was broken apart for another man's pleasure played at the front of his eyes. It looked all too real and felt all too real. His eyes were fully dilated, allowing more light into them as part of the survival mechanism, helping him to better assess the situation. And yet, he could see nothing but his memories of cruel smiles and cold laughter that were fuelled by his own useless tears and futile pleadings. 

His entire body tensed and wired to take action. His first instinct was to break away, but even in that state, he understood how unwise it was. Without Javier's protection, he would be nothing but prey for the Crown Prince. He still vividly remembered those cruel threats and malicious promises, and those dark eyes that promised to follow through with each one of them. Trading suffering for some kindness and protection was a much better deal, after all.

So he remained in Javier's arms, pale as a ghost. He felt his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs, each breath more difficult than the last. He mentally prepared himself for whatever would take place next, only to found himself be shaken out of his trance state by a pair of gentle hands.

Javier let go of him the moment he realised that Yuzuru had gained back his cognisance. Yuzuru came to realise that he had been guided back to the board, with his back pressing against the rail, giving him support. And Javier was about two steps away, enough to give him some air and space, but not far enough should he require any assistance. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Javier looked just as affected, face white with concern and guilt. He clearly struggled with his words, as he started to comprehend what brought this episode on, "We could leave, if you want... to explore another part of the park, or just go home...I..." 

Strangely, those words made a difference. They were helpful reminders that Javier's violence was the result of Johnny's magic. Even though that sadistic tendency was there to begin with, he had clearly put a tight lid on it. A thoughtful and caring man was in control of his natural-born proclivity unless magical interference took place. So he was safe here. 

Yuzuru forced himself to smile. He contorted his lips into an awkward upward curve. It probably wasn't as pretty as he wanted to be, but it was the best he could do. 

"I'm OK. Just got scared for a second because I thought I was going to fall," The Japanese lied through his clenched teeth, as he forced his breathing to even out. He extended his hand, as trembling as it was, "Show me how to skate please."

Javier hesitated, before he reluctantly took it between his own, all the while checking on the younger man through stolen glances. 

In a country with ice hockey as its national winter sport, it was hardly surprising that Javier could skate. He played ice hockey recreationally after all. The rental skates were quite different from the professional hockey skates though, not only different in terms of design but also their cheap and wonky blades. But it took very little time for Javier to get used to them. 

They started by staying close to the rail first, as Yuzuru began to acclimate the feeling on the ice. Javier showed him how to fall in a way that minimised bruising and pain. Yuzuru, who was desperate for anything to distract Javier from his latest panic attack, followed his example to the letters. The Prince showed him how to fall to the side and leaned a bit forward as the body went down, by putting his hands on the laps, and turning over on the hands and knees. And to get up, he lifted one foot up first and place it between the hands, then push the body up to a standing position.

Having an understanding of how to protect himself in a fall gave Yuzuru a lot more confidence as he learnt to skate. He held his arms out in front of him and open them wide to help him stay balanced. He quickly learnt not to lean backwards, as it would send him flying on his backside.

As it turned out, the Japanese was natural in skating. In no time, he found himself gliding on the ice like he was born to be on it. Perhaps because of all the dance lessons he took in the past two years, he had a better sense of balance and flexibility than most. By the end of the two-hour session, he was holding a Y-Spiral, to Javier's absolute amazement, until he found himself losing balance as he was about to collide with another skater. 

He screeched as he tumbled down the cold hard ice, only to find the Prince using his own body to cushion for his fall. He found himself giggling against the broad chest, savouring the expression of shock on the Prince's face only moments ago. And Javier was mesmerised by the unadulterated happiness, as Yuzuru's eyes sparkled with genuine laughter. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't even dare to blink, afraid to miss such a rare moment.

They laughed at each other as they got out of the rink, with snow stuck to their hair and to their face as they tried to help each other and brushing them off. Coldness and moisture had seeped into their thick winter clothes, but nothing a little magic couldn't fix. 

They wandered as they made their way into the market, lined with street vendors selling seasonal trinkets and various street foods. Cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into the whipped cream warmed them up quickly, as colour returned to their faces.

As they leisurely walked, Yuzuru found himself strangely drawn to an unremarkable tent, with a sign that said Revealing Mysteries of Future. Before he realised what he was doing, his feet moved on his own accord. And Javier wordless followed. 

Behind a heavy curtain that acted as a door, it was a room filled trinkets, crystal balls and various talisman that he didn't recognise. The scent of incense filled the small room. It strangely reminded him of the Seimei Jinja* that he visited with his mother before he departed from Japan. The shrine where his mother pleaded to the God of East for a happy and simple life for him.

Under the dim light, there was a woman who dressed in layers of plain robes, draped with jewellery made with cheap stones, bones and teeth of some sort of animals. 

"I know what you here for." The fortuneteller stared at him, hawk-eyed intense and focused. Her old face marred with time. 

"Tell me about my mother, then. Is she well? Will I see her again?"

"Give me your hand," she croaked and reached for him. Her wrinkled hands took hold of his wrist with surprising strength. Her nails were so long that reminded him of claws.

This elderly Caucasian woman poured over his palm for a long moment, eyebrows creasing as she muttered to herself. It was so dark in the tent. With the only light source being a lamp two feet away, Yuzuru wondered how she could possibly see anything. 

"You are asking the wrong question, my child," Suddenly her entire stance changed. She straightened her hunch back, with measured prose she switched to Japanese. Her accent was thick but still understandable, "Your words could change the course of history. And yet here you are, using them for the most trivial things."

"I don't understand..." Yuzuru, who was surprised to hear his mother tongue from the mouth of a woman who didn't look Japanese at all, more than her weird words, said.

"More than a vessel for other men's pleasure or a pawn on a chessboard to be maneuvered by the rich and powerful, your life could mean so much more, more than your limited imagination could possibly take you." Her blues eyes shined, so bright like the thunder in a storming night. She drilling into him, voice stern and deep, "But be careful, that road isn't for a weak heart, like the one that currently beats in your chest. It's a grim path paved with blood and bones of those who betray you as well as those for care for you, and lined with lies, treachery and sacrifices."

Her fingers held on to his wrist in iron-like grip, Yuzuru instinctively struggled in an attempt to break free, only to feel the pressure increase exponentially. A groan of pain escaped from his lips. It was unimaginable that a frail-looking elderly woman could be so strong. 

It wasn't until Javier stepped in, and held onto her arm and demanded her to let go that she finally did.

The entire conversation made Yuzuru nauseous. He wanted nothing more than getting out of there as soon as possible. So they did, after Javier tossing down a few coins. As the heavy curtains closed behind them, Yuzuru could still hear her shouting after them, "Run all you like! You can't escape fate! A path that has been predetermined for you!" 

The fresh night air hit them on their faces, the cleansing scent of snow flooded their nostrils. Suddenly it felt so silly to be riled up by an old woman and her foolish words. Both of them looked at each other in utter bewilderment, before burst out laughing. It was then Yuzuru realised that his left hand was in Javier's right one. Their fingers clasped together, like the most natural thing to do. And this time there was no fear, no feigning, just a strange sense of rightness. 

Yuzuru tugged Javier's hand, as he led the way to the other side of the market. It was a long walk filled with tempting street foods and their delicious aroma from various countries. Javier was more than happy to follow along, judging by this indulgent smile on his face. Together, they sampled xiaolongbao** from China, poutine from Canada, tacos from Mexico, just to name a few. 

By the time they stumbled back home it was 2am in the morning, their bellies full and faces flushed pink despite the cold. They were meant to part the way at the top of the grand stairs, as their bedrooms were located at the opposite side of the house. And yet, with their hands still firmly laced together Yuzuru lead them both to his own bedroom.

Javier, who had being nothing but compliant the whole way, stopped him right at the door.

"Are you sure, Yuzuru?" 

The Japanese decided the best way to answer that was to press his lips against the Prince. He had never kissed anyone, not even the only time that they slept together. So he just winged it and hoped his partner would take it from there. And Javier certainly did. He pried Yuzuru's mouth open his own tongue, predatory and hungry as he made his way inside. Yuzuru's entire vision darkened, as he was once again paralysed. He stood there helplessly as he felt a pair of hands seeking for his body, as they worked their way past his garments. They burnt against his naked skin, full of promises of what was to come. 

Then it all stopped. Yuzuru found himself pressed against the door as he struggled to steady himself with his jelly-like legs.

"It doesn't have to be tonight, or tomorrow night, or the night after. Just whenever you are really ready." The Prince said, with his ever-present kindness.

Yuzuru looked at Javier in confusion, who was 2 steps away from him, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself. It was then he realised how badly himself was trembling, like the last leaf leaving the branch on the bitter autumn wind. 

He had never felt more like a failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Seimei Jinja*(晴明神社): Seimei Shrine.
> 
> Xiaolongbao** (小笼包): literally, "little basket bun", is the delicate steamed dumpling filled with pork and soup often thought to have originated in Shanghai.
> 
> Congratulations on Submerging Artist for working out the identity of the Council.👏👏👏


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a gallant fight at the GPF! 5 landed quads in FS, including 4Lz and 4Lo which had given him serious injuries in the past. The 4A attempts were absolutely mind boggling. I'm forever in awe of this man. 
> 
> Happy belated birthday Yuzuru, our hero! Always praying for your health, happiness and wishes coming true.

Every morning, Yuzuru woke up with turmoil of emotions, quite sorrow intertwined with the ever-present desperation. 

Starring right back at him in the mirror was always Axel. His nemesis, who stole his beloved sister's face, quietly laughed at his anguish, "You could have a very different life, and yet here you are, living on borrowed time, relying on your master's kindness."

It was almost surprising how much he could be riled up by a mere reflection in the mirror, and a voice in his head. Probably because so much of those words ran true.

Upon returning from their date at the Aurora Festival, Yuzuru's relationship with Javier had evolved, almost as much as it hadn't. 

The Prince had made apparent efforts to incorporate Yuzuru into his life. The Fernandez House was modified to accommodate the younger man's lifestyle and preferences. Ikebana* adorned the corridors around Yuzuru's living quarters and his rooms. Between the ragged and dried branches were the gorgeous bloom of tsubaki** with their velvety petals, with occasional winter berries and evergreens incorporated to celebrate the beauty of the season. 

A part of the massive garden was segregated to form a karesansui*** - a Japanese style dry landscape garden made with gravel, sand, and rocks. These materials were compiled and raked into ripple designs to represent water and mountains, with trees, moss, bushes, featured in between to form an intricate work of art. It was designed entirely to be viewed from Yuzuru's bedroom windows. A calming sight from the moment the first ray of sunlight hit his room. Designed by one of the finest Japanese landscape artists, with most of the materials shipped directly from the Land of the Rising Sun, no expense was spared. It was seen as a testament to the Prince's dedication.

But out of all the gifts he received, Yuzuru's favourite was by far the newly built indoor ice rink at the north end of the House. It was almost like part of him were drawn to the ice. He felt a rare sense of tranquillity whenever he stepped on it. He hired a skating instructor to provide him with lessons. But sometimes he simply went there for the sole purpose of laying on it, feeling the iciness seeping through his training gear as he hummed in contentment. Even Axel was happy to remain silent in those moments.

It had also become a mutual ground for Yuzuru and Javier, where two of them could share a place without pressures or expectations. Fond memories of the time they spent together at the Festival remained, and it managed to make things a lot less awkward between them. 

Most of the times, Javier just came by to see Yuzuru doing his run-throughs, trying to master the essential elements such as spins and footwork. Even in his falls, the Japanese's happiness was always infectious. Javier found himself becoming obsessed with seeing those dark eyes radiating with pure joy and hearing his giggles that were full of delights. The Prince also used the opportunity to introduce one of his own favourite winter sport, the ice hockey to his charge. He taught Yuzuru the rules and basic skills such as shooting and puck control. The Japanese might not be as powerful as the older man in this sport, but he held his ground surprisingly well with his speed and agility. 

Their first outing as a couple, if they could be called that, was at an ice hockey game that took place between Team Red Dragon and Team Black Crow. Those teams were patroned by the Crown Prince and the Second Prince respectively. 

From the moment they stepped outside of their carriage as they made their way toward to arena, Yuzuru received quite a bit of attention. After all, the Keeper of the Spanish Heart was becoming a bit of a legend in the upper society. Behind the feigned politeness, there were countless pair of eyes that were enthusiastically weighing him up, judging and speculating every aspect about him. No amount of expensive furs or jewels that Javier covered him with could help him to blend in in this crowd. They had all deemed him not being part of "the group" from the start. 

It wasn't uncommon for the rich and the powerful to bring their side pieces to an event like this, it was even fashionable to do so. All these men and women, all young, glamorous and exquisite. They paraded their beauty like peacocks showing off their feathers. They hung off in the arms of their patrons, their smiles almost blinding as the precious jewels that they wore. It was almost like a competition in itself, with their master's reputations and social status at stake instead of the number of goals scored. 

The star of the event was a woman named Eve, who accompanied Patrick, the Crown Prince. Her beauty turned heads as the pair made their way through the crowd. Her emerald green eyes were almost feline-like, as her haughty gaze run over Yuzuru from his toe to his head. In mere seconds, she seemed to have deemed him insignificant for further attention, so she turned away and curled her body to Patrick's side instead. The older man smirked as his right hand traced over her gorgeous curve possessively. His attention clearly delighted her, she smirked. Her blood-red lips curled seductively against his shoulder. 

Despite being political opponents, the Crown Prince and the Second Prince greeted each other civilly and exchanged a few words about the weather, before Patrick diverted his attention to Yuzuru. His sharp gaze lingered onto the younger man's face and in particular, his once dislocated jaw. Patrick's tongue ducked out briefly to wet his lower lip, clearly reminiscing a particular fond memory. Just like that, fissures appeared on Yuzuru's new amour, the one he hastily rebuilt after returning from the Crown Prince's residence.

He couldn't help but cowered behind Javier, his fists tightening on the back of robes very much like a scared child. Once he realised what he was doing, he let it go immediate in embarrassment, only to find Javier's hand engulfing his own. It was a much-welcomed presence in a moment of shameful weakness. 

He lifted his head and smiled at the Prince in gratitude. And Javier returned it with one of his own. He placed a chaste kiss on the side of Yuzuru's cheek unexpectedly. A moment of brief contact was to enough to make the Japanese blush in the prettiest shade of pink. At that moment, all those eyes around them were zoomed right onto them. People were being stunned into silence by Javier's uncharacteristic behaviour with such an open display of affection. Eve chewed her bottom lip in jealousy, unhappy that her limelight was being stolen by a mere boy. She did have a chance to seek revenge by spilling a glass of champagne on him during one of the intermissions, without as much as sparing him a second glance. 

Yuzuru simply took off his soiled coat and passed it onto Sota to keeping, after he stopped the enraged boy from giving her a piece of his mind. The last thing he wanted to happen was getting involved with someone who was in favour of Patrick. Javier, who was too much of a gentleman to go after any lady, wordless took off his own coat and draped it over him. He fastened the ribbons himself with his face merely inches away from Yuzuru's. Looking downward, his eyes were focused entirely on the task at hand, like it was the most important thing under the sun. The Japanese acutely felt his hot breath right next to his exposed neck. A tingling sensation travelled down his spine, and he couldn't help but shivered. And this time it had nothing to do with fear.

During the second intermission, Nam came and sought the Japanese out, "The Crown Prince would like to see you. A chance for Eve to apologise for her rudeness earlier."

Yuzuru wanted nothing more than to decline, but knowing he wasn't exactly in any position to do so. Hence, he whispered a few words to Sota, asking him to inform Javier of his whereabouts, before heading out with Nam. He took comfort in the fact that Nam never tried to stop him from speak to Sota. Surely the younger man harboured no ill intention.

He was led to the locker room of Team Red Dragon, judging by the plague that hanged on the door. Behind the wooden frame, he could hear loud laughter and cheering. He hesitated, but he still followed Nam's instruction and turned the doorknob.

There was Eve, on the floor. Her once beautiful face purple and bruised, and her maliciously braided hair fallen out of all the delicate headpieces made of gold and emeralds. All the smugness were gone from her striking green eyes, leaving behind 2 dull voids. Her mouth was no longer capable of sneering. It was forced to form an O shape as one man after another thrust their erections down her throat. Her exquisite green gown that matched her eyes was now in tatter. Her once flawless skin was marred as men fought to get their hands on it, each of them eager to tarnish it further.

Yuzuru stumbled backward, his face ghastly white, only to find the only exit being blocked by Nam. Fear spread through his body like shreds of icy metal, each one sank deeper than the last. He clenched his fists as he attempted to form words, but nothing came out of his trembling lips. His throat had completely closed off. 

Nam initially remained unmoved, but then suddenly his expression shifted. Yuzuru was not sure what he had seen on his own face, but it was enough for pity to surface momentarily. The younger man wordlessly moved out of his way, as Yuzuru's trembling legs took him further down the corridor. He found himself a rubbish bin before he threw up violently. His heaving continued long after there was nothing inside of his stomach. 

He felt a gentle hand running down his back in a manner that was meant to sooth. He looked up to Nam's concerned face in surprise. The younger man helped him to stand up, before put his arm around him, supporting much of his weight. Despite his pride, Yuzuru was in no state to refuse his help, so he let himself be lead to an empty room nearby.

Yuzuru looked at himself in the mirror, his breath erratic and face pale as a ghost. The armour he had on were full of cracks by now, with his vulnerable self fully visible in between. Patrick's message had been loud and clear, a thinly veiled reminder to a threat that he once made. 

He took a few deep breaths and willed himself to calm down. It was through his ingrained stubbornness that he managed to pull himself together. He rinsed out the foul taste in his mouth, even though there was nothing he could do with the lingering bitterness down his throat. He straightened out his own clothes as much as he could and combed his hair with his own fingers until he deemed himself presentable enough. At least when Javier got hold of him, his gaze only lingered on his red-rimmed eyes which he could do very little about. He never mentioned the incident to the Second Prince. He was well aware of the tension between the Prince and his inner circles of advisers after he gave in to Patrick's demands to get him back. He didn't want to contribute to it further. 

Javier was far from shy about parading him around. Yuzuru soon found himself being the Second Prince's constant companion as he attended the various function in the Canadian Royal Court. It caused a much bigger uproar, as no one had ever flaunted their toys at these more formal functions. It wasn't common for couples in the privileged class to have entertainments on the side. After all, most of these marriages were products of need and alliances, and they had very little to do with love and affection. But open secrets were still expected to be kept out of the polite companies. However, as Javier was still single, he managed to get away more than most. And this was how Yuzuru found himself bearing a very underserved reputation with an incredible level of notoriety. By then everyone had heard about what had happened with Eve. Despite being Patrick's favourite for years, she found herself out of favour over offending the Second Prince's little whore. A cruel punishment over a glass of spilled champagne, people gossiped. By then, the royal court was full of speculations about a supposedly love triangle, a saucy scandal with Yuzuru being in the centre of it all.

The funniest thing was people actually started to seek Yuzuru out to gain favours from either the Prince. They came bearing expensive jewels and gold, all in the hope of him whispering a few swaying words while in bed.

Sometimes Yuzuru wished he had actually earned his reputation. The physical aspect of his relationship with Javier pretty much stagnated. Despite spending more time together, their intimacy never went much further than handholding. Every night that Yuzuru spent by himself, alone in his duvet was another night that he sighed with relief as well as desperation. On one hand, he was relieved to be spared from providing sexual pleasure. But on another hand, he understood well that Javier's indulgence and patience would eventually reach their limit. And one way or another, he had no contingency plans. Not to mention the sleepless nights that he suffered through after waking up from nightmares that were made of Patrick's cold laughter and Eve's glassy emerald eyes. 

As usual, his dance teacher read him like an opened book. Johnny tsked at his anxiety, never-ceasing cycles of contradicted emotions that he simply was incapable of escaping from.

"Silly child," The American chided, "There is power in giving sex as well as withholding it." 

Yuzuru's eyes widened as he struggled to comprehend these words. 

"It's all about control, giving people a little taste of what you could potentially offer. A hook used to lure them on." Johnny's slender fingers suggestively run down Yuzuru's body. They just had a training session together, endorphins still coursed through Yuzuru's body in abundance. In that fleeting moment, all dark thoughts and endless doubts left him. All he could feel was an unfamiliar sense of pleasure that pooled around his groin, where Johnny's hand cupped his penis. Before his body had a chance to understand what was going on, that hand was gone, leaving him subconsciously groaning in a desire that he barely understood. 

Johnny laughed at his barely concealed embarrassment, "There is so much power in sex, and one day you will learn to wield it like a sword."

The theory was relatively easy to understand; however implementation was another matter. And the days passed by as he tried to gather his courage.

Breakfast was generally a simple affair at the Fernandez House, with both of them having to leave early for their respective duties of the day. Yuzuru preferred his Japanese style meals, which usually consisted of a bowl of rice, a plate of grilled fish and a bowl of miso soup. While Javier enjoyed his plate of pan con tomate, a simple toasted bread rubbed with ripe tomato, garlic, and olive oil.

Yuzuru usually preferred green tea, while Javier sipped on his first cup of Cafe Con Leche***** for the day. But this morning, just as he was about to reach for his favourite teacup, the newly hired maid, Peng Cheng ***** accidentally stepped onto the fringes that adorned the side of the table cloth as she attempted to clear away his used utensil. So as she turned to leave, she took half of the contents on the table with her, including his teacup and teapot. Various pieces of China came crushing down, ended up in pieces on the mahogany floor. 

Peng was a timidly mannered woman, her short black hair framed a naturally sweet face. Her frantic apologies were weaved off by Yuzuru, who wasn't going to be upset over a sullied shirt when he had plenty more in his wardrobes. He had liked her. She was one of the few people inside the House who spoke to him like an average person, while most of the senior staffs choose to take on a more distant although respectful stance. 

So he headed back upstairs for a change of clothes, after bidding Javier goodbye who was about to head out to work. Driven by pure momentary courage, he pressed his lips against Javier's. He remembered how the Prince had kissed him outside of his bedroom. And he attempted to replicated it as his tongue slipped past Javier's mouth and delved inside. The older man tasted like coffee that he just took, but also waves of barely constrained desire. As if sensing Yuzuru's sudden hesitation, the Prince ceased all response from his side, passively allowing him to test the ground. It was an act that aimed to gain trust even though he had wanted nothing more to throw Yuzuru onto the dining table, all the audiences be damned. 

By the time Yuzuru pulled away, both of them were out of breath. Their foreheads touched briefly, as Yuzuru savoured the sense of thrill that he experienced. It was just as intoxicating as the sound of Javier's erratic heartbeats that he could clearly hear. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

Ayaka Hosoda******, the Japanese Chief who was hired to cater to Yuzuru's preference in Japanese cuisines, moved across Yuzuru's bedroom soundlessly. Her movement precise and efficient as she reached for her target who had her back turned to the door as she tidied up the room. Like a leopard pouncing onto its prey, she had Peng Cheng under control in mere seconds, with her fragile neck trapped between her elbow and her hand. 

"Who hired you to ruin my plan?" She hissed, eyes dark and threatening.

"....I...have no idea...what...you are talking...about!" Peng barely managed to get these words out through the choking hold. She still held a piece of towel in her hand as she struggled helplessly.

"I won't ask again!" She tightened her hold momentarily as a mean of intimidation. She was quite satisfied to feel the helpless struggling intensified for a second before it lost momentum due to lack of oxygen.

In her moment of carelessness, she never saw a blade aiming at her waist coming until she felt the sharp pain. Ayaka doubled over, and Peng used the opportunity to get away from her. Before Ayaka could get up from the floor, Peng was upon her. Forgoing the blade since it was still stuck in her opponent's body, she put her bare hands around her neck in a crushing hold. At that moment, the Chinese didn't look particular frail as she liked to portray herself as. Within minutes, Ayaka's struggles ceased completely, with her body being nothing but a limp form on the floor. 

Peng's partner, Jin Yang*******, made his dissatisfaction known when he walked through the bedroom door, "You should have kept her alive. At least long enough for us to find out who hired her to put that poison in Hanyu's tea."

"We both know it was the Japanese. Our job was to keep Hanyu alive for now." Peng shrugged, as she pushed herself off Ayaka's lifeless body, before casually brushing out the visible creases that formed during the struggle, "I only follow the orders given to us."

Jin sighed. There was no point in arguing at that point, so he let it go. There was literally no blood, so tidying up was quick and swift. In mere minutes, Ayaka's body was loaded into a cleaning cart to be wheeled outside the property; and all the windows were left open to let out any stench of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Ikebana*(生け花/活け花) is the Japanese art of flower arrangement. It is also known as Kado (華道, "way of flowers").
> 
> Tsubaki(椿)**: Japanese camellia, also known as camellia japonica or camellia. It is also called the rose of winter.
> 
> Karesansui(枯山水)***: Japanese rock garden or "dry landscape" garden, also often called a zen garden. It's a miniature stylised landscape through carefully composed arrangements of rocks, water features, moss, pruned trees and bushes, and uses gravel or sand that is raked to represent ripples in water.
> 
> Cafe Con Leche****: a Spanish coffee beverage consisting of strong and bold coffee (usually espresso) mixed with scalded milk in approximately a 1:1 ratio.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Peng Cheng(彭程)***** & Jin Yang(金杨)*******: a team of Chinese pair skaters. They are the 2019 Four Continents bronze medalist, 2018–19 Grand Prix Final silver medalist, and the 2017 Asian Winter Games silver medalist. They represented China at the 2018 Winter Olympics.
> 
> Ayaka Hosoda(細田采花)******: a Japanese figure skater. She landed three clean triple axels at the 2018 Japan National Championships at the age of 23. She finished 8th overall, her highest ever placement at the Japan National Championships. She is the training mate of Rika Kihira(紀平梨花) and Satoko Miyahara(宮原知子).


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given Yuta, the OMC who first appeared in Chapter 2 is brought back for a more significant role, I've replaced him with an actual skater, Ryuichi Kihara**.

From that morning onward, it had almost become a game, each of them toying the line of intimacy, pulling and tagging to see who could get the upper hand.

The kiss continued. Yuzuru timed it well. It was always in public, right before Javier was ready to head out for the day. He took confidence in the fact that the Prince would have no opportunity to demand anything further than what he chose to give on any given day. Sometimes it was a merely quick perk on the lips or having his tongue delved into the older man's mouth, shyly teasing until both of their breaths quickened. And sometimes, his hands would be pressed against the Prince's chest, where his heart was, just to feel the erratic heartbeats caused by him. And other times, it would tentatively slide down. His long fingers gently caressed, never anywhere close to the crotch area, but enough to spark so much imagination for Javier.

Yuzuru preened in his own accomplishment. The feeling of in control was intoxicating as he became bolder. And the Prince no longer knew whether this newfound boldness was a blessing or a curse, as he made his way to work with a raging hard-on more days than he didn't. It was almost like being reverted back to his teenage years, with raging hormones coursing through his veins day in and day out, and the madding sense of need taking over his rational thoughts. 

But Yuzuru's acceptance of his affection made it all worth well. It was a slowly but surely process. As Javier was quick to realise, the key was let Yuzuru set the pace. After all, nothing earned trust like following the unspoken rules. By respecting the boundaries set by Yuzuru, his patience was slowly being award. From the forced smile that never reached the younger man's eyes - a strained curve on his lips that only meant to please, to the genuine laughter that shone in his dark eyes, as they formed crescent shape just like the new moon. Javier took pride in the hand that actively reached out for him now, and the shoulders that no longer tensed whenever he had his arm around him. Yuzuru now giggled whenever Javier took hold of his waist and curled him to the older man, breathless as he struggled half-heartedly trying to get away from his teasing touches. The Prince's presence was no longer perceived as a threat, as they shared the same space, breathing the same air. There were serenity and contentment, even in silence. 

Then the rumours started. The upper class engaged in another round of excessive gossiping on the Spanish having his eyes set on a new target. It didn't take long at all to reach Yuzuru's ears. After all, more than enough of his classmates were willing enough to take time away from their study to inform him of his impending doom. 

At first, Yuzuru wasn't concerned. Javier had always been surrounded by beautiful people, men or women. There was nothing new about that. But the alarm bell started to sound in his head when he noticed the Prince had begun to stay out later and later, and sometimes even an entire night. And the gossip mill had enough witnesses to confirm it was hardly a night out with his buddies. 

"Tell me what he is like," Yuzuru asked in a seemly casual manner, with only the trembling fingers holding onto a white stone betraying his nervousness.

"Who do you mean?" Shoma asked as he studied the Go* board, an intense battle played out by the black and white stones. As Yuzuru's best friend, he had been grant access to Fernández House, so his visits were frequent. 

"You know who I meant."

"You know, pretty plain looking..." Shoma happily took advantage of Yuzuru's distraction, cut into Yuzuru's territory, and secured a nice chunk of territories using his black stones.

If he had hoped it would revert Yuzuru's attention back to their game, he was sadly mistaken. Yuzuru, finally abandon all pretence of focusing on the game, asked outright, "So, you have seen him?"

Shoma certainly had. It didn't take long for the news to travel to his ears either. And in a fit of indignation on behalf of his friend, he sneaked his way into The Blue Moon, an upper-class gentlemen's club. He was nowhere near the age requirement of course, but a bag of silver coins paved the way. Hidden in an unobtrusive corner, he had a chance to see Ryuichi Kihara**, the hottest topic in town. From the first look, Ryuichi reminded him of Yuzuru, from the luscious long black hair that framed a delicately beautiful face to the kissable mouth that curled enchantingly when he smiled. Beyond that, he also had a pair of dark eyes that had seen far too much in his young life. 

Ryuichi Kihara worked as a waiter, not as a dancer in the club. But Javier's attention gave him a lot of clouts. People were willing to pay for a lot of money for his company just to share a few drinks, and a whole a lot more for some more private time, but Ryuichi resisted each and every time. It was clear as a day as to what he was hoping for - a far better payout down the line. 

And it certainly wasn't farfetched. Shoma had also seen how Javier looked at him. There were enough fascination and care that well beyond mere sexual attraction. 

Shoma bit his bottom lip, stubbornly refused to utter another word, knowing full well nothing he said could have offered any relief. 

Yuzuru stared at him for a long moment, hating for his friend's stubbornness at the same time being thankful for it. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to hear the truth. He reached for his favourite teacup. The tea now had gone cold, tasted startling bitter. 

In a moment that he immersed himself in his own thoughts, he barely caught the few audible words that were murmur by Shoma, "If only.... you were mine...". Just like he missed the look of pure anger that surfaced on Shoma's innocent face for a brief second. 

In the years to come, Yuzuru had wondered repeatedly if he had on that day, how the events that were about to unfold would have changed. And how all of their lives would have been different. But as he sat on that lonely throne, form by as much power as bitter memories, he supposed it was all moot by then.

But at that moment, he had a much more pressing matter to worry about. There was nothing like the emptiness in his heart and the sense of panic that coursed through his veins. Like the sand falling through cracks between his fingers, his control evaporated faster than the dew under the first ray of sunlight on a hot summer day. 

Javier had clearly lost interest in him, and in turn in their games. The Japanese had managed as long as he could with all the little tricks - all that coy smiles, shy kisses, trying to delay the inevitable. He should have seen the end coming a long time ago - either with him losing Javier's interest or giving himself to the older man. He was too naive to believe he could play this game indefinitely. And now the time to choose had come.

He schooled his expression as he dressed. Another white dress gown, like the one he wore not so long ago on the night that Javier first took him. He didn't want to give Axel an ounce of satisfaction, as it used Saya's loving face to sneer at him. "Her" lips curled cruelly, taunting him as it watched him. Yuzuru's fingers trembled uncontrollably as he struggled to fasten the ribbons. They were crooked and ugly knots, just like the jumbled thoughts that circulated in his head. 

Still, he managed to pull on his armour, his facade of confidence and sensuality. A piece by piece, they were conjured up with every last ounce of hope and courage that he was able to gather inside of him until his entire being was covered. All his fragility hidden behind an image he had learnt to create painstakingly. He was once again Yuzuru Hanyu, the Second Prince's notorious toy. 

Just like the first night that Javier took him, Yuzuru was in the older man's bedroom by the time he returned. From where he stood, by the bed, the Spanish smelt like tobacco, perfume and a fair amount of alcohol. And how it brought back memories he had tried so hard to suppress. He shuddered. He desperately held on to his armour. Only, this time it remained vulnerable even after all that mending. After all, there was only so much to could be done on the chips and cracks, and pieces that were barely held together by his stubborn will.

Javier was certainly surprised to find him there. Both of them stared at each other. In a long moment of silence, both of them could read the sense of deja vu on each other's face.

A darkness passed over Javier's face, as he was also clearly reminded of that night, the bitter sorrow and guilt that accompanied it, "You shouldn't be here.... not when I had a few drinks..."

Yuzuru shuddered, his body remembered all too well what the man at the front of him could be capable of. And yet, he chose to remain. Leaving was no longer an option. Not after he had seen the fresh hickeys that littered the Spanish's neck, glaringly obvious even under the low light. Feeling with the dread that he might be too late after all, he lied through his lips, "I want to be here."

"Do you really now?" Javier questioned. His voice was raised in incredulity as he took a few steps forward. Yuzuru stumbled backward on his feet. It was an act that was purely driven by the impulse to get away, and that got him landed on the bed. The younger man found himself being corned between an intimidating presence that loomed over him and the soft mattress beneath him with nowhere to escape. They were so close now that the Prince could literally feel the tremor that vibrated throughout that thin body. So there was the answer he was after, much more truthful than any words Yuzuru could utter at that moment. 

The Spanish weren't sure what he would have preferred. The unrealistic hopefulness or the devastating truth. The fragile trust that they had taken so long to built together was on the verge of collapse just like sandcastle amongst rising tides. At that moment, he was suddenly overtaken by anger. 

"Look at me! Yuzuru! Look what you have done to me!" He reached out for Yuzuru's hand and pressed it hard against his groin, the throbbing erection that was barely constrained by his pants. 

In that instant, fear overcame Yuzuru like a pillow being placed over his mouth and nose. Before him was a man who was clearly about to lose his self-control, and the mere thought about what was surely to come was enough to cripple him. 

Instead, the Prince remained motionless, eyes crazily bright like a bonfire in the midnight. Frustration and desperation radiated off him like tsunami, and they hit Yuzuru right in the face. It was overwhelming and yet so very fascinating. Suddenly, it dawned to him that this was not a man who had found his satisfaction elsewhere.

As if seeing the comprehension on Yuzuru's face, the older man laughed bitterly, "That boy practically threw himself at me, but I couldn't... just couldn't..."

"You are the only one I've ever wanted, so please don't do this... don't break what we have managed to build so far..." The Prince had abandoned all his pretence and begged.

At first, he felt pity. It was such a foreign emotion that it caught him completely off guard. Then came the overwhelming sense of power. The knowledge that this was what he was capable of was absolutely intoxicating. 

"Show me then! Show me how much you want me." As if taken over by another entity, Yuzuru commanded. His eyes were just as fervently bright.

Javier's eyes widened, at first in surprise, then in gratitude. He hurriedly undressed, almost like he was afraid the Japanese would change his mind. His fingers fumbled as he struggled to deal with the seemly endless bottoms and ribbons that were deemed necessary on clothing to be worn by a man of his status. But in the end, he ripped them apart in his impatience. Buttons scattered as they hit the floor. Jacket and shirt parted ways, exposing a broad chest and well-defined abs. Javier was just as gorgeous underneath all those expensive clothing. His penis was fully erected, flushed and veined against his taut stomach. Without any stimulation, it was already glistening at the tip. Javier hastily wrapped his own palm around it, his fingers forming an O shape as he moved them up and down his erection in madding speed. Precome dribbled down, smoothing the way. The Prince groaned as he chased ceaselessly for his orgasm. His eyes were half-closed, clouded by desire. And yet he struggled to keep them open, just so he could drink in the view of Yuzuru, and ingrain them into his memory. 

And Yuzuru was indeed a stunning sight. His breath was just as erratic as Javier's. His face flushed in the excitement in a very different kind, as his mouth parted as he tried to get more oxygen into his taxing lungs. His dark eyes glimmered, greedily took in what was being displayed in front of him - his master's unconcealed desire for him. The unquenchable thirst, combined with the startling vulnerability, created an unimaginably beautiful image. His brain kicked into high gear as he memorised each and every one of those movements with greed. The raw desire and desperation were almost palpable in the air. This was what he had driven that man to, he realised in astonishment. But it was quickly overtaken by a sense of accomplishment. There was indeed power in sex, an unimaginable amount power to be wielded if he was able to learn the art. And this knowledge filled him with so much excitement.

"Come for me." He demanded.

Just like that, Javier did, with semen spurting between his fingers. His breath was knocked out of his lung with a loud moan. His entire vision whitened as his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave. He found himself collapsing on Yuzuru's shoulder, his breath laboured against his collarbone. Despite being completely exhausted emotionally and physically, he still felt the younger man stiffened against the physical contact.

"I'm sorry..." He immediately tried to detach himself, not that his knees would cooperate at this stage. Then he felt the fingers threading through his hair, stroking him so gently.

"It's OK. I don't mind." Yuzuru whispered, still very much out of breath as well. And it was enough to get Javier to relax against him once again. 

For a long moment, no one spoke a word. Not that any was needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet no one saw this coming 😆😆😆
> 
> Translation Note:
> 
> Go(碁)*: an abstract strategy board game for two players, in which the aim is to surround more territory than the opponent. The playing pieces are called stones. One player uses the white stones and the other, black. The players take turns placing the stones on the vacant intersections ("points") of a board
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Ryuichi Kihara(木原龍一)**: is a Japanese figure skater. As a single skater, he is a two-time bronze medalist on the ISU Junior Grand Prix series and the 2010–11 Japanese Junior silver medalist. In 2013, he switched to pairs. His current partner is Riku Miura (三浦璃来). Their partnership was announced in August of 2019. They train in Oakville, Ontario at the Skate Oakville Skating Club under Bruno Marcotte, Meagan Duhamel, and Brian Shales. They competed at 2019 NHK Trophy, where they finished fifth.


	17. Chapter 17

Javier's fingers lingered around Yuzuru's face tentatively. He wanted to give Yuzuru enough time to evade, should he choose to. But the younger man didn't. So those fingers threaded through his long hair and brushed it away from his face. His thumb ran across Yuzuru's sweat-stained cheeks, the same path that his eyes hungrily travelled on, drinking everything in with insatiable greed. Yuzuru stared back at Javier, eyes dark and fathomless. However, beneath all that were ripples of emotions that were yet to die down. 

The Japanese's fingertips still tingled with excitement as his brain slowly came down from an incredible high. At that moment, all the pieces came together, "Was it... all intentional?"

Javier's lips curved, "I could hardly let you take the lead all the time."

Yuzuru burst out laughing, all his anguish and worry evaporated. Part of him was indignant, the other utterly relieved, as all the heavyweights made of bitterness and sadness were lifted off him.

"So why haven't you..." From where they pressed against each other, Yuzuru had an unobstructed view of the hickeys that littered on Javier's neck. He had interpreted it as a show of declaration very boldly made, but it turned out not to be the case. So his curiosity was piqued.

"I saw Ryuichi as a friend. Someone to talk to, and found out more about the realm you came from." Javier thoughts wandered to the other boy who also had long luscious hair and a pair of eyes that had seen far too much. Betraying his youth exterior, they were ancient and worn out, dulled by years of hardship. And yet there was a fire inside of that seemingly breakable body, and it burnt so brightly. Just like the Japanese who currently laid by his side. In a moment of curiosity, he struck up a conversation after the younger man accidentally spilled some of the wines he was meant to serve on him. Then it had become an easy friendship, with Ryuichi's beautiful smile and soothing words, which did wonders for his ego that had been bruised in Yuzuru's seemingly careless hands, and his attitude that continued to run hot and cold in two extremes. 

In the beginning, Ryuichi wasn't mean to be as a tool in his relationship with Yuzuru. That boy's tale of a struggling childhood played to his sympathy. Two of his three sisters, Narumi Takahashi* and Miu Suzaki** fell prey to illness and passed away in a cold and bitter winter, leaving behind Riku Miura***, the youngest and Ryuichi struggling in poverty. In a daring move, the then 17-year-old boarded a cargo ship and sought a better life in a foreign land for both of them.

It wasn't until the Prince had seen the looks on Yuzuru's face - those fleeting moments of poorly concealed anxiety and hurt that he barely managed to catch, he realised it was an opportunity for him to get through the younger man's seemly impenetrable exterior. 

"And he wasn't you, after all." The Spaniard murmured regretfully. He must admit that Ryuichi's supple thighs had been enticing enough after a few shots of whiskey. It was an easy and willing affection that held the promise of pleasure that he had been so desperate for. But no matter how passionately he worshipped Javier with his fond eyes and loving lips, everything just felt wrong. 

At that moment, a foreign emotion bloomed inside of Yuzuru, hot and bright like burning coal. Between the ugly black mass made of selfish needs and desires to survive, something else blazed brightly. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was warm and gratifying. He closed his eyes in contentment.

From the next night onward, he claimed half of Javier's bed as his own without invitation. After all, he wasn't about to leave another opportunity for someone else to encroaching on what was his.

Javier looked at him, long black hair fanning out on the pillow they were about to share as his slender form sought refuge in the warm cocoon made of his duvet, and felt his own lips trembling with barely suppressed laughter.

"Were you jealous?" The Prince teased, his own eyes danced in mirth.

The question caught the younger man off guard. Was he though? He had no idea. He wasn't in any capacity to judge his own feelings - a turmoil of emotions that were made of anger, despair, sadness and desperation, each of them entangled and intertwined, virtually inseparable and indistinguishable.

"I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you." He answered earnestly, even though the sentiments behind such thought were just as complicated. 

Javier looked at him in awe. This was clearly more than what he ever had hoped for. He placed a kiss on his forehead tenderly, "And that is more than enough."

So just like that, they went back to their old habit of sharing a bed. A wordless commitment to each other. Javier, who only ever slept with a pair of boxers, got used to wearing pyjamas to bed and battling with constant arousal that cost him many sleepless nights. And Yuzuru got used to waking up being tucked beneath another person, with a pair of arms around him possessively.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

It took everything he had in him to remain silent the moment Ryuichi felt his mistress's pointy heel dug into his hand. He bit his lips, hard enough to taste his own blood to avoid making any sound. He had long learnt that there were two types of people in the face of others' suffering: those who sympathised and those who took pleasure out of it. And the very first thing he learnt about her was which group she fell under.

And his silence clearly pleased her. It took a while, but eventually, her foot was lifted, just enough room for him to retract his trembling hand as sweat soaked through his collar.

"Tell me what happened," She demanded. She was an intimating woman in her 50s, who had spent most of her life soaking in power. Her shoulder-length hair was blond and wavy, framing a face that was once beautiful. But it was now hardened with passage of time, as much as the cold blood running in her veins. Her long dress gown was steel grey, just like her eyes that were steel hard peering at him beneath her meticulously applied black eye shadows.

"I...I've failed. My deepest apology..." Ryuichi murmured, his voice quivering with fear. He knew how much his mistress dislike being informed of her meticulous plan had failed. 

She chuckled without an ounce of humour. Those sharp sounds echoed through the room. And all the guards and servant presented lowered their heads in fear.

"You practically impaled yourself on his cock, and yet you let him getaway." She sneered. Her tones cold and cutting, enough to get the Japanese to lower his head further, particularly with his upper body pressing against the floor, "I thought you were an ambitious one, how disappointing."

Ryuichi had always taken pride in his ambition, the tenacity that helped him to crawl out of any quagmire that he was thrown into since a young age. It was his ambition that made him stood out after Akihisa Nagashima was done using him as an educational tool for Yuzuru Hanyu, enough so that man gave him a choice: either be made use of his "natural talent" in a whorehouse or be his eyes and ears in the Spanish Empire. The decision had been an easy one. It was his ambition that made him his mistress' favourite amongst all the beautiful men and women that were sent to her as part of the many expensive gifts that symbolised the good wills between the two realms. It was his ambitions that made him survived her endless sadistic games, as she derived her pleasures through monstrous strap-ons and dildos that were mean to tear him apart. It was his ambition that made him volunteer to take on the role of seducing the Second Prince of Canada, the moment he saw her interest in him dwindling. He had seen what happened to those who lost her favour time and time again. And he wasn't about to let himself become one of them.

The task he was given was to divert Javier's attention away from the Keeper of the Spanish Heart. He thought he had everything under control. He had seen how Javier looked at him, there was sympathy and affection, precisely as he had hoped to achieve. And yet everything fell apart in the last second. The Prince no longer came to the Blue Moon, and all his request for a chance to see him was denied. All he had for his last attempt of rectifying of his mistake was a bag of gold and a verbal message of wishing him starting a new life, both passed on by a servant. What new life? He had laughed humourlessly as he felt himself being mired down by his failure. 

"Mistress, forgive me! Please give me one more chance!" He pleaded desperately. His voice muffled as he was practically screaming into the carpet beneath his face. 

Then he felt his face being lifted by her bony hand, her grey eyes dark as the impending storm, cold like the winter snow as she scrutinised him. Then she smiled. It was the moment that his heart sank. Then her hand came down hard and cracked across his face, snapping it back with the force of her blow. It caused him to lose his balance as his head reeled sickeningly. It disoriented him so much that it took him a while to realise he was bleeding. A long cut was made on his left cheek, where her giant ruby ring in teardrop cut had caught him.

"Since you are incapable of fulfilling such a simple task, I have a better one that is much more suited to your natural talent." She sneered at him coldly as she turned away, "And I will have to deal with that little eyesore myself, I guess."

"No, no.... please! Anything but that..." Ryuichi's eyes widened in alarm as the guards approached him. They lifted him off the floor and hauled him outside as his feet dragged and his hands gripped onto the carpet futilely. Before long, hands covered his mouth, muffled his screams. The last thing he saw was his mistress lying back on her chair, and beckoning the girl who sat obediently by her feet. She lowered her body and crawled her way between their mistress' parted thighs and put her mouth to use. Those stormy grey eyes didn't spare him another glance. Then a blindfold was placed over his eyes, so his world went dark.

Much, much later, he was thrown back to his room. The very first one he was given when he came to his mistress. It was bare and ugly, with dirty wall and floor, and threadbare sheets. The maids, the jewels, the gowns - everything that symbolised his enviable status in that house was gone. All that she had ever generously endowed him with had been taken away, leaving him stripped bare in humiliation. 

Everything he had worked so hard for was now in shamble. He took off the blindfold with trembling fingers as he stumbled his way to the basin. He forced two of his own fingers inside his mouth. It didn't take much effort to induce expulsion of everything that had been forced down his throat. Gastric acid, bile and semen splattered across the cracked and dulled porcelain. His ears still rang with ugly laughter of the guards and servants who promised him many more days of "fun" to come as his thighs quivered with cum and blood trailing down.

His fingers tightened on the edge of the basin, as anger and humiliation eating into him like lava. His suffering always started with one person - Yuzuru Hanyu. So many nights, he had dreamt of a world where this man didn't exist, and a happiness he would surely have found. And yet here he was, ruined and destroyed, all because of him once again! 

"And one day, you will pay for it!" He growled, eyes glinting insanely bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Narumi Takahashi(高橋成美)*: a Japanese retired pair skater and six-time Japanese national champion. She was Ryuichi Kihara (木原龍一)'s 1st partner in his pair skating career. They represented Japan together at the 2014 Olympics and placed 19th. The pair split in March 2015.
> 
> Miu Suzaki(須崎海羽)**: a Japanese pair skater. She was Ryuichi Kihara (木原龍一)'s 2nd partner, from 2015 - 2019. Together, they are two-time Asian Open Trophy medalists and the 2017 Japan national Champions. They announced the end of their partnership in early April 2019.
> 
> Riku Miura(三浦璃来)***: a Japanese pair skater. She is Ryuichi Kihara (木原龍一)'s current partner. They competed at 2019 NHK Trophy, where they finished fifth.


	18. Chapter 18

One morning, Yuzuru woke up to the sound of the bathroom room door being closed gently, and a partially empty bed. Space next to him bore the indent of the Prince, and it was still warm to his touch. 

Then he heard the sound of moaning. Blurred and muffled by the door, but they were still audible if he paid enough attention. When he understood what was going, his cheeks were coloured immediately. His mind drifted as he imagined Javier's large hands stroking his hardness at a rapid pace, his abdominal muscle rippled with exertion with every laboured breath he took, and heat travelled down his own spine. His own breath quickened, as a burning heat spread through his entire body like a wildfire in a windy day, it was so foreign and yet addictively intense. 

Then Axel jeered him. Using Saya's sweet voice, it mocked him, "What a little slut! One taste of a cock and you can't help but want more!" 

Just like that, shame overwhelmed him. How could he want something that nearly broke him beyond repair both physically and mentally? So those feelings were smothered just as quickly as they came, leaving Yuzuru staring at the ceiling blindly, willing his own breathing to return to normal. 

Shortly after, Javier would return from his self-imposed isolation, hair damp from the morning shower. Then the maids would come in to get him ready for the day, while Yuzuru feigned asleep. Both of them pretended it was just another day, with nothing out of the ordinary.

However, once the Japanese started to pay attention, he couldn't help but notice more - the seemly endless tossing and turning at nights, and the hardness that he could feel so acutely at his backside despite the layers of clothes in the mornings. It was clear that the Prince was reaching his limit. And he knew he had to do something before Javier sought comfort elsewhere, and this time for real. 

Sex held power, he reminded himself, and it was time he learnt to wield it, as unpleasant as it was.

So one morning, right as Javier was detangling himself from the Japanese, Yuzuru grabbed hold of him and said, "It's OK, you don't have to go anywhere."

Javier, who clearly wasn't expected to be caught, paused.

Under the older man's confused eyes, the Japanese untied his nightgown with trembling fingers. The material fell apart underneath his hands, revealing his silky smooth skin, the sharp curve around his tiny waist, and the soft pink nipples that stood erected once in contact with the cold morning air. 

Javier's breath caught in his throat. His eyes impossibly wide, like a famished man upon seeing a feast being displayed at the front of him. It was so tantalising and surreal, yet he feared that the moment he reached out it would all disappear in thin air, leaving him devastated. 

The Prince's gaze was so hungry and predatory that fear inevitably crept into Yuzuru's head. He couldn't help but look away, eyes tightly closed as he waited to for the inevitable to come. 

Just like, the magic was broken. Javier sighed, "Look at me, Yuzuru." He gentle hands framed Yuzuru's face, coaxing him to face him, "It's OK. We don't have to have sex."

"But I want to!" Knowing he had made a vital mistake, Yuzuru eagerly wanted it to be rectified, "I want you to fuck me!"

"Perhaps one day, but not like this." The Prince shook his head. Only God of West knew how much it took out of him to say these words. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to descend upon that not so willing body and took his long-denied pleasure. But not like this, "I want to make love to you."

"What's the difference? I'm ready now!" Yuzuru was confused and indignant. He wasn't that fragile child who broke in the face of a challenge any more. He was better than that! "I can take a fucking!"

"The difference is l love you! Damn it!" It was the moment Javier lost all of his patience and growled. How he had wanted to shake Yuzuru hard, for he had always failed to see what was so obvious!

The younger man was stunned into silence, eyes wide in disbelief. It took him a few sounds to finally found his voice, "What...?" And it came out distorted and high pitched.

Javier deflated in the face of Yuzuru's open confusion. He had to remind himself that Yuzuru came from a very different upbringing to an average person, and given how young he was when they first met his relationship experience was likely to be none existed as well.

"Perhaps saying it was love at first sight is an exaggeration, but I wanted you from the first moment I laid my eyes on you." 

Yuzuru blinked in incredulity. This was not the conversation he had expected, "You wanted me?" 

"Yes, I did," Javier repeated with a patient smile. With those words, his heart was laid bare, vulnerable and fragile, even though he knew full well that his relationship with Yuzuru was complicated, "And I still do."

"But you couldn't bear to look at me when we first met!"

"I couldn't bear to see someone so beautiful and pure being paraded like cattle before a buyer," Javier said, remembering that day, and how young and vulnerable Yuzuru looked. He saw right through the expensive the jewels he was adorned with, and the luxurious gown he was barely covered with. Nothing could hide the fact that the young boy was a bargaining chip on the table, dressed up to boost his value for the day. At that moment, he felt the overwhelming need to protect, before someone so beautiful and yet so vulnerable landed in the wrong hand and being broken beyond repair. And yet looking back, wasn't it ironic that he ended up doing the exact thing that he feared? 

"Oh," The Japanese murmured softly. It was all he could manage, as his brain tried to process everything he had just heard. He had no question that Javier cared for him. He would have to blind not to see that. But love? Really? Was guilt such a power tool like Johnny claimed it to be so even Javier got confused? He stared at the older man in amazement.

Javier wasn't surprised that his declaration wasn't reciprocated. After what he had done, even though he tried to make up to him every day afterwards, was he even worthy of Yuzuru's affection? "It's OK. You don't have to lie if you don't feel the same."

"I like and respect you, Javier," Yuzuru replied. The truth was the very least that Javier deserved. He ignored a stabbing pain in his chest. What if all these beautiful words were the result of his deception - a seed of guilt that he had planted at the beginning, purposely or not? 

The Prince smiled. Part of him held that silly fantasy that his feeling was returned. But he would always prefer the truth over a beautiful lie, however disappointing it might be. Plus, "like" and "respect" were things he could work with. They had come so far from where they started, after all.

"It's good enough for now," so he replied, "And one day when you do feel the same, we will make love together."

"Fine, but I still want to make you feel good." 

If there was one thing Javier had learnt by now, it was how stubborn Yuzuru could be. The same tenacity that allowed him to pull himself together again and again, despite all the crushing circumstances. Javier grinned with delight. After all, it was the hidden flame in that tiny body that attracted him in the first place, a blinding brightness even in the darkest night.

The younger man's eyes were wide and eager. And greed bloomed inside of Javier's heart. His eyes feasted upon what was presented at the front of him. Beautiful and sensual, enthrallingly flawless, all just waiting for his touch. It was like a pure white canvas waiting to be splashed with first of many brushstrokes, marking it to be his, and his only. He could feel his own tight resolve crumbling. He couldn't help but wondered what it would have been like to have those soft pink lips stretched around his erection, which was so hard by now it was becoming unbearably painful. Or to have those supple thighs drenched with fragrant oil, pressed tightly together for his pleasure, as his lips devoured that elegantly long neck, teeth sinking in hard until it was red and purple. Technically speaking, neither would break his words, he mused. But deep inside, he knew they would only result in a meaningless pleasure that was disappointingly bland, like the sort he could have easily gotten else with his coins or his status. 

So instead, he reached for Yuzuru. His hands covering his, showing him exactly what he wished for.

Two pairs of hands worked together, as they removed Javier's underwear, freeing his erection from the straining fabric. Then Javier took Yuzuru's fingers into his own mouth, and under Yuzuru's surprised gaze, he swallowed three of them whole. His tongue teased the underside of these digits as he heard Yuzuru's breath hitched in his throat.

The Japanese was stunned into silence. He had had things, hands and dildos, thrust into his own mouth, forcing their way down his throat. Always so thick with humiliation and shame that they made him gagged hopelessly. But never the other way around. Javier's mouth was hot and soft, his tongue slippery and inviting as it wrapped around his fingers. The Prince's eyes had darkened considerably, full of promises and hunger. Yuzuru felt a fire being lit on his fingertips, and it quickly travelled down his arms and onward. 

Javier was already hard, the skin around his penis tight and taut. His foreskin retracted, exposing the head of his penis, glistening with precum. The Prince flattened Yuzuru's palm and showed him how to do a basic stroke with their fingers extended. Yuzuru soon understood why Javier wanted his hand wet, as the slipperiness smoothed the way. Then Javier manoeuvred both of their hands around his shaft, forming a circle. The strokes were short and quick at first, focusing on the top of the penis. Then they gradually became longer and slower as they covered his entire erection. Yuzuru learnt to alternate his grip and speed, as he started to learn from Javier's reactions - how his breath altered, how his body quivered, how he gasped and moaned. Soon his own child-like curiosity took over, as he took the initiative to explore the Prince's body. 

His fingertips traced over each of the bulging veins and folded skin. He soon discovered how sensitive Javier was as he teased the indentation on the backside of his penis, where the head met with the shaft. Even the slightest pressure there made him chocked as his legs tensed. The Japanese moved onto the head of the penis, as he became more fascinated with how around and smooth it was compared to the rest. His thumb rubbed across the opening. It was tentative at first. Then his strokes got bolder after he saw how the precum trickling down, wetting his fingers. 

It didn't take long for Yuzuru to be just as affected by Javier's barely suppressed groans, "please, please, please, Yuzu... I.... please". His own hands trembled for reasons he didn't quite understand as desired coiled in his own belly. Yuzuru's breath was just as laboured, matching Javier's. His own awaked desire heavy between his legs. 

The Prince had a hard time deciding if this was a sweet pleasure or torture, or if he wanted it to go on forever or end right now. Either way, he had surrendered himself to his partner, as the Japanese became more confident. Yuzuru's fingers curled around the shaft with a sureness that was just mastered, each stroke quicker and firmer than the last, as he swirled his thumb around the head. It didn't take long for Javier to come with a loud moan. It was so raw and so low that it seemed to emanate deep from his chest as he emptied himself onto Yuzuru's hands, coating it with white strips. His eyes fluttered shut, but not before he had a glimpse of his partner's face that was full of wonder and joy, and signed in contentment.

Yuzuru wasn't in any capacity to understand his own feelings, so he took that wild heat inside of him as a sense of pride. Sex in conjunction with control once again gave him a flicker taste of power, still so intoxicatingly sweet. It was much easier to ignore the painful hardness between his own thighs when he was drunk on Javier's pliant form beneath his hands. Johnny's teaching echoed in his head, etched into his heart, and became a doctrine. Fear still existed, like the lingering ghost that still haunted. But in a moment like this, he was able to push it backward, a little further to the background. 

He had expected the fond smile that Javier gave him after he finally caught his breath, as well as a kiss placed on his lips, quick and chaste. But he had not anticipated a necklace being placed onto his palm. It was a delicate gold chain with an exquisite pale pink diamond stone as the pendant. It was about the size of the nail on his pinkie finger, most likely worth a fortune given its colour, size and clarity. Javier held up the diamond for him to have a better view, it was then Yuzuru realised what he was seeing - a sakura flower in diamond form. The stone was masterfully cut to 87 facets, as opposed to 58 facets of a regular round brilliant cut, resulting in an illusion of a pink blossom with its signature five petals blooming inside. It was just like the Somei Yoshino*, the most well-known variety of cherry blossom tree that lined the streets of Japan. Their long and bare branches extended elegantly in early springs, hosting generous clusters of pale pink blooms, painting the entire landscape with striking colours. 

"It's so beautiful," Yuzuru gasped, spellbound by such rare beauty. 

"Just as beautiful as you are," Javier smiled, as he placed a gentle kiss on the younger's forehead, "You reminds me of sakura, delicate and beautiful, yet resilient and hopeful, efflorescing in the first wind of spring after a long and harsh winter."

Yuzuru cheeks blushed pink. He had never associated those words with himself, not after a lifetime being put down and belittled. And yet here was a man who saw value in his humble existence. Happiness bloomed inside of him, so warm and tender. He couldn't understand what it was, and yet he found himself relishing it fondly. 

The desire to be closer to Javier was hard to resist, so he adjusted himself. With his knees folded underneath him, and his entire body conformed to Javier's, he found himself fitting perfectly between those arms, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally finding their way to each other.

Their hands laced together as they leaned against one another. Javier told him about the sakura trees that he had imported from Japan, to be transplanted into Yuzuru's private garden that was warded off against the rest of the property.

"And next year, we will see the sakura blooming together," Javier promised. 

Yuzuru nodded. At that moment, he had wanted nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:
> 
> Somei Yoshino*(染井吉野): a hybrid cherry blossom tree. It is now one of the most popular and widely planted varieties worldwide. The flowers emerge before the leaves in early spring; they are fragrant, 3 to 3.5 centimetres (1.2–1.4 in) in diameter, with five white or pale pink petals. The flowers grow in clusters of five or six together.
> 
> Other note:
> 
> I was pleasantly surprised to find out that sakura diamond actually exists. Here is an image of one made with a colourless diamond. The one Yuzu received is made with a pink diamond instead: (source: https://www.mokumeganeya.com/e/sakuradiamond/)  
[](https://imgbb.com/)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated New Year, everyone! 2019 was a year of significance for me as a writer. Not only I managed to finish one of my longest fics to date but also wrote nearly $100k words in total. This may not seem a lot for many, but it was certainly important for someone like me.
> 
> A lot of readers came and went, probably because most of my fics are on the darker side. I really appreciate all of you who are still here supporting me. Thank you for all your kudos and comments. I hope to see more of you this year.

Ryuichi soon lost track of the days and the nights. Despite the sun rising and falling, it hardly made any difference to him since almost all of his waking hours were spent amongst men, to be played like a toy. Therefore, it was far easier to lose track of time, so every second, every minute and every hour just blurred into each other, literally indistinguishable. 

For all his hard work, he was thrown a piece or two of bread, often a couple days old and so dry and hard that they scratched his bruised throat as they went down his oesophagus and a jug of icy cold water that was basically frozen in this weather. Still a lot more preferable than a beating, he supposed. He soon lost all his sense of taste and smell, for which he was thankful. Cocks, cum, and other random things used as toys that were shoved inside of his mouth became much more bearable this way. 

Food became nothing but substance for him to survive another day. And, sleep was just a necessity to give him enough energy to take on another group of men in a few hours. His body had soon become heavy and unresponsive like a piece of rock. It took all of him to feign his moans and groans, the only way he knew to avoid further punishment after they were finally done with him for the day. 

In those moments where even time ceased to flow, his thoughts wandered to that man. The one with warm chocolate coloured eyes that radiated kindness and care. The one who treated him like a human being instead of a fuck toy. Oh how he had thought about those large hands that were calloused from sword-wielding would feel against his naked skin, as that kissable mouth marked every inch of him. But it was never long before his brain helpfully reminded him how pathetic his fantasy was. Not even worthy of a few parting words, he was kicked out of that man's life with a bag of gold. A happiness that was supposed to be his, but once again destroyed by Hanyu. So here he was, biting his bottom lip as he endured yet another round of brutal pounding, his legs spreading wide limply. Meanwhile, that man, the source of all his misery, lived in that beautiful castle, surrounded by servants, and treasured by a man who was devoted to him. 

In the end, he had nothing to anchor his sanity. Nothing other than a blind belief that this was not his end. Not yet. After all, those had no further use were usually swiftly disposed of - as gifts to others in positions of power, or being sold to a whorehouse to live out their remaining days. So he knew his mistress wasn't done with him yet. 

It also helped that his mistress hadn't completely forgotten about him. She still enjoyed the entertainment he provided from time to time. It usually entailed of her taking pleasure in seeing him on the floor, his mouth and ass stuffed full of cocks as she had her own fingers deep inside her new toy. Her favourite ruby ring with all its sharp edges elicited high pitched moans that were heavily laced with pain, as that young girl trembled uncontrollably against their mistress's imposing form. 

After he had pleased her with his performance, he would be given a small fire that made his night a little bit more comfortable in the freezing winter that just wouldn't come to an end. In those nights, he dreamt about his childhood, where he and his three sisters huddled together around a fire that they secretly built on a night just like this. 

He told them stories. Wild tales of having a beautiful house, plenty of food and new clothes, and a loving couple who kindly adopted all of them. He told them about how every morning would start with tender hugs and tasty breakfast, and every evening would end with full bellies and goodnight kisses. Under the scanty moonlight, their stomach might growl, but these were easy enough to ignore while they laughed and huddled together to keep each other warm. A hardened onigiri* that he had managed to steal from their orphanage's kitchen that day were shared. He usually lied about already had a snack, just so his sisters could have a little bit more. After all these years, these memories were still so vivid. He could still hear Narumi's gentle laughter as she overlooked her younger siblings, Miu's dreamy signs, and Riku's excited giggles. It wasn't until his door was busted open, and men came in to take him out to fulfil his duty for another day that he remembered Narumi and Miu were nothing but bones underneath the unmarked mounds. He couldn't even afford tombstones for them. The money he made from selling himself was only enough for two cheap coffins and a small bag of copper coins for Riku. 

Personal hygiene was the part that he struggled with most. It usually involved having a few buckets of cold water from the well slashed over him, a poor attempt to wash away the cum and blood that had crusted over on his skin. His lips turned purple. Goosebumps covered his entire body as he shivered uncontrollably. So he was surprised to be given a hot bath one day. 

The servants pretty much dumped his limp form into a bathtub, before the bath brushes descended upon him. The rough bristles cleaned away the debris, leaving his skin pink and painful to touch. A few of the wounds reopened, tinting the water pink, but no one paid them much attention. Not even himself. The heat briefly woke him up, but it felt so nice and warm in there that he thought he was in a dream. So he just closed his eyes again, until they dragged him out of the water like a dog. 

Then he was given a pretty substantial meal. He hadn't had a taste of meat or hot soup for... He had no idea really. He had lost track of time, after all. He scoffed them all down like a mad man, only to throw the barely chewed pieces back up shortly while the servants scolded him. His long starved stomach simply couldn't handle all that food. Then a silk gown was put on him, just like the one he used to wear before his mistress decided to make him an example out of him. 

Afterwards, he was taken to see a man, a Japanese man he had never met before.

Those cold black eyes ran critically over him, before those thin lips breaking into a smirk, "I'm giving you a chance to take your revenge. Now, let me know your answer, boy."

Just like that, Ryuichi knew the chance he had prayed for was finally here.

So he smiled.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Soon, Yuzuru's 18th birthday was upon them. Given it was not considered a significant birthday** for a Japanese, Javier planned something intimate and private instead. Despite Shoma's unhappy grumbles about missing the birthday celebration, they set off to a secluded spa resort at the Blue Mountain, about 3 hours away from Toronto. The 25-acre property held spectacular mountain views that were shielded from the rest of the world by Ontario birch, Canadian maple and pine trees. 

With its entire premises booked and secured by Javier Raya and his team of royal guards, it became Yuzuru and Javier's private paradise for 5 days. In the mornings, they often embarked on long walks in the forest, beneath the tree branches that were laden with snow. Their boots sunk deep into the snow, leaving behind a trail of paired footprints in the whitened landscape. 

Sometimes they were content with building snowmen and various animals. After being decorated with broken branches and pebble stones, they came to live temporarily under Javier's spells. They nuzzled up to Yuzuru, just to draw out some of these cute giggles that Javier had inevitably grown so fond of. Some other times, these walks resulted in epic snowball fights, where the snowballs burst open on impact, showering them both with crystalline fragments that glinted in the bright sunlight. Being a seasoned archer, Javier was quick to have the upper hand. His impressive aiming skills had Yuzuru running all over the places seeking cover. But being a quick learner, and more agile, the Japanese managed to get a few good shots of his own as well. With their lips tinged blue, fingers immobilised by cold, and the heating charms on their coats had long worn off, they had to call it a draw. So, in the end, they sought out for each other's arms with uncontrollable laughter and delightful giggles that echoed in the forest.

In some afternoons, they wandered off to the local community nearby. Escaping from Javier Raya's clasp was a bit of challenge, but also part of an exciting adventure. In a small town made of cute buildings, various street vendors, cosy restaurants and cafes, they easily blended in. Their good looks and fines clothes did cause some commotion, but the locals were simple folks. Their smiles were friendly and welcoming. They happily shared the folklores with them, showed them the best places to enjoy some local cuisines, and invited them to their festival where they danced to the simple tunes of the common folks. In their eyes, they were just two young lovers who happened to pass by their town in their travel. Yuzuru and Javier both loved the anonymity. They left before nightfall with their bellies full, and bags full of things that managed to catch Yuzuru's eyes as souvenirs.

Other times, they took refuge in one of the outdoor hot springs. The temperature of the water was in stark contrast to the frosty air. They sighed in contentment as they felt every muscle in their bodies relaxed. They leaned against each other amongst the raising steam, hand clasping together, fingers interlocked. Javier ceaselessly whispered beautiful things into Yuzuru's ear in both English and Spanish. He had done so with such frequency now that Yuzuru was starting to pick up a few Spanish words.

"I love you, my precious."

"Querido, eres muy hermoso.***" 

"Quiero pasar el resto de mi vida contigo.****" 

"So be mine. "

His breaths were so hot and tingling against his ear, and they aroused a pool of heat in Yuzuru's groin. He had no choice but to shift his body in embarrassment as he tried to hide his reaction. He was fully convinced that Javier did so in purpose, knowing very well what they did to him!

Growing up, Yuzuru never had much thought about what his future would be like. After all, his imagination was significantly limited by the four walls of the dungeon he lived in, it was always so dark except for 2 hours of precious sunlight each day. He had some yearning for a family of his own when he was younger. But it was a very abstract concept - a house that was filled with laughter and happiness, a partner who loved him, and children who ran around in the backyard. He could hardly see how it would have worked though. Surely, no one would be willing to enter into a relationship with a man who had no freedom or the skills necessary to provide for his family.

But now, it all suddenly seemed to be very feasible. Here was a man who loved him and wanted to build a future with him. Although Javier and Yuzuru had never brought up the word "marriage", they had talked out the future, the future that they had already started to live now. Like waking up to seeing each other first thing in the morning, and kissing each other good night before closing their eyes at nights. The vacations they would take all around the world, and the beautiful memories they would create together.

Yuzuru had brought up the topic of children. He had always adored them, the endearing little creatures who ran around his knees, asking for treats or little origami***** animals that he made with their big innocent eyes. They brightened his days with their infectious joy. Unlike their distant parents, these children of the maids, gardeners and cooks adored him, their love was easily won and always lack judgements. He told Javier in a dreamy voice that he wanted two in the future, one girl and one boy, one of Japanese descendant and the other Spanish. Javier had smiled, and kissed him on his temple indulgently, "Anything you want, Yuzu."

Yuzuru savoured the word "Yuzu", the telltale Spanish way that Javier pronounced the "z" more like an "s", and decided that he liked it very much. Only those who were close to him called him as such, like his parents, his sister, then Sota and Shoma, and now Javier. He liked the affection that was so evident in those four letters. So Javier became Javi too. And the first time he addressed Javier as such, it earned him a passionate kiss on his lips. A gentle hand coaxed his jaw open so Javier's tongue could slip inside, taking all of his breath away. 

Sex was one topic that they hadn't really discussed. Yuzuru, with his fear still lingering like a stubborn ghost that refused to dissipate, had trouble engaging in penetrative sex. And Javier simply didn't want to put pressure on Yuzuru. 

The Japanese frequently found himself wide awake at nights, looking at the side profile of his lover in the darkness. From the sharp cheekbones to the shadows created by his long lashes, as he stewed in guilt. The same thoughts kept circulating his brain - how much of Javier's emotional investment in him was based on guilt, blame that wasn't really his to shoulder. And whether he, as broken as he was, was worthy of this affection. 

Driven by the conflicted emotions, Yuzuru was more than eager to please Javier sexually. The coy look when no one else was there to see, the teasing touch beneath the table clothes. The handjobs he deployed as morning calls while swallowing Javier's more than enthusiastic moans with his own mouth. The nights when he straddled Javier's hips, his clothed thigh pressing against the Prince's rapidly awaken erection as he moved his body tentatively. The friction was enough to drive Javier out of his mind as he mindlessly thrusting his own hips upward, chasing that orgasm that was so close and yet still out of his reach. In some of those moments, the older man's hands would tighten painfully around Yuzuru's writs in the throes of passion, holding the Japanese there as he coated his inner thigh with his cum while his self-control slipping. Yuzuru winced in pain. But he didn't mind. Not after Javier murmured his apologies against the rings of red bruise, his tender kisses chasing away the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note: 
> 
> Onigiri(おにぎり)*: balls of rice, usually wrapped with nori seaweed and containing a filling.
> 
> "Querido, eres muy hermoso.***": "Darling, you are so beautiful." in Spanish.
> 
> "Quiero pasar el resto de mi vida contigo.****": "I want to spend the rest of my life with you" in Spanish.
> 
> Origami(折り紙)*****: is the art of paper folding. The goal is to transform a flat square sheet of paper into a finished sculpture through folding and sculpting techniques.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Birthday in Japan**: In Japan, the age of majority is 20 instead of 18. However, Japan is looking to lower the age of adulthood to 18, which is set to take effect in 2022. Japanese celebrate turning 20 with seijinshiki (coming-of-age ceremonies). Held on Coming of Age Day on the second Monday in January, young men and women dress in suits and kimonos attend events that are held throughout the country.


	20. Chapter 20

Shoma's 15th birthday, which took place 10 days after Yuzuru's was celebrated publicly and ostentatiously. A huge party was hosted in the Japanese Embassy, with the all Canadian elites on the invitation list. Even though it wasn't his significant birthday either, it was politically necessary. 

The young Japanese could barely suppress his yawns, as he was directed by Akihisa to mingle in the crowd. He was bored to death and but forced to maintain a polite facade as he accepted yet another birthday well wish from yet another man or woman that he could barely recognise. Events like this were, of course, not really for his benefit. They were organised, with countless coins spent, as a political necessity. A scene for people to be seen, and for deals to be discussed in a more relaxed environment. 

Yuzuru was there too, but the staff members had been instructed by Akihisa beforehand. So they ensured he was kept away from the young prince. "It's beneath your status to be seen with someone like that." Akihisa was quick to offer his view on the matter.

Shoma sighed in exasperation, as he struggled to maintain that fake smile that was sure to be a permanent fixture on his face soon. To be honest, he would have preferred a simple get together with his friend, sharing a hearty meal of sukiyaki* with plenty of wagyu beef imported from Japan, its sweetness and tenderness being enhanced by a thin coat of beaten raw eggs. Or a strawberry sponge cake to be shared, after his friend sang a happy birthday song for him. He wouldn't even complain about his dreadfully off-key singing skills!

Needless to say, he was glad to see the party eventually came to an end, and he was spared from further torment for the moment. The highlight of that night was definitely when Yuzuru came to his house to give him his birthday gift bag personally. Inside, there was a set of Go game with its board and all the 361 stones handcrafted by his friend. The board was made with arborvitae tree, which symbolised everlasting friendship. All the black stones were shaped out of slates, while all the white ones from clamshells, ground to smooth out the edges, each of them unique and beautiful. There was also an assortment of truffles, chocolate, fudges, maple cakes, maple-glazed smoked salmon, all souvenirs from their trip to the Blue Mountain. Shoma sank his teeth into the maple walnut layer cake with fudge frosting and decided it was a worthy alternative to the strawberry sponge cake that he was craving. And knowing Yuzuru still thought about him even while enjoying the hot spring trip with the Second Prince made his heart swell with much happiness. However, he begrudgingly decided that his friend still owe him at least a birthday song, which Yuzuru refused to comply with his face blushed and indignant. 

A few days later, his presence was requested again. This time to go through all the gifts received. At least Akihisa had spared him from most of the burden by getting his staffs to catalogue them. Notes were made for future references, and thank-you cards were sent. He was only required to deal with a few of the tricky ones, such as treasure or artworks with questionable origins that could potentially cause some diplomatic issues in the future. However, he had not expected to see a dozen of beautiful men and women, scantily clothed, and looking up to him alluringly from their knees. These were certainly a brand new type of gift this year. Perhaps people thought it was high time for the young prince to experience the carnal pleasure, and they took it upon themselves to provide the necessary means.

His sighed as he walked by them. Glancing over them with barely suppressed impatience, Shoma was ready to give out his order so that they would all be sent away with a bag of silver coins each. Slavery and human trafficking were banned in Canada. And he was not about to give people ammunition against him and the entire Japanese delegation. 

But the words died on his lips, as his steps halted. Amongst those who kneel by his feet, there was one face he recognised - jet black hair that fell along his shoulders like finest silk, almond-shaped eyes that were dark like bottomless abyss, and a smile that was demure and yet inviting. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Yuzuru and Javier spent their new year's eve at the Royal Cathedral at the Garden district. It was the first time Yuzuru actually participated in any ritual relating to the God of West, who was the master of fire and its influence encompassed most of the western realms. 

Initially, it was only a small wooden structure made with crude and inexperienced hands of the first group of settlers in Toronto who were the followers of the God of West. But after many expansions and reconstructions over the centuries, the oratory was now the most prominent place of worship in Canada.

Standing over 100 meters tall, the building was a masterpiece, the accumulations of ingenuity, dedication and hard work of generations of architects and artists. Two 283 concrete steps led to this magnificent building from the street, separated by a central flight of 99 wooden steps, reserved for those who wished to climb them on their knees in a show of their faith.

Inside, 10 stained-glass windows depicted the tale of the birth of the God of West, flames and ashes that formed a being with unimaginable power and wisdom that reigned over generations of Kings and Queens. The only constant as dynasties came and went. 

Around the altar, over 10,000 votive candles burnt bright in red candleholders that were lacquered in gold. Above it, was the looming statue of God of West, their genderless figure dancing in flame, forever preserved with flame-red marble. 

Attended by over 500 attendees of royal lineage, significant political and financial figures in the realm, as well as their families, this was the event of the season. Being invited to an open service hosted by the High Priest and High Priestess, Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue was a big deal, an affirmation of status. People kept a close eye on the list of attendees, a sure way to tell who were making waves and who were falling out of favours in the court. 

Initially, Yuzuru had no idea about the significance of his appearance in such an event. Not until he received countless looks that ranged from barely concealed disbelief to utter hostility. Then he noticed that those who were generally considered to in his social class, all the arm candies and sidepieces that had been frequently seen in the upper social scenes were absent. 

Then his thought went to Javier's private study, its door that was being shut for hours prior to their departure. Sounds of argument were being muffled by the thick door, as all of the Second Prince's advisors overcrowded the space inside for one last meeting before the new year. Occasional heated words would slip out when the maids went in to provide refreshment. But he hadn't put much thought about it until now. But now everything just clicked together.

"Perhaps this is not the place for me." He whispered to Javier, getting increasingly self-conscious by the minute. No amount of jewels or furs could change how people perceive him, or the look of scandalisation on their faces. Power, prestige and sanctity, to these people he was a mockery to everything that was represented in this room.

"I wouldn't accept anyone else but you standing beside me." Javier smiled at him, his chocolate brown eyes were as warm as his smile, as he offered his hand to the younger man. With their fingers interlocked, Yuzuru's fear evaporated like the dew under the first sunlight.

The service started by the High Priest and High Priestess sharing the will of their God, demanding alliance and loyalties, and commanding each person to serve in their roles in the society with diligence and faithfulness. The crowd, in turn, cited their pledge in unison. Afterwards, all attendees lined up before the altar to receive their blessing one by one, as Scott and Tessa placed fruits of firethorns between their palms. These berries were said to be first discovered at the birth site of the God of West, symbolising their God's blessing in the coming year.

Right before it was Yuzuru's turn, Ravi Walia**, one of the priests stepped forward and whispered to Tessa's ears, while his gaze fixed at the Japanese in condescension.

There was a moment of silence, as all eyes focused on the couple. Tessa hummed, her lips that had painted flame red thinned as she appeared to be in a moment of indecision.

It was Javier who broke the silence, "This is Yuzuru Hanyu, my partner." His voice loud and firm, as his hand firmly clasping onto Yuzuru's. Yuzuru looked at him, as that strangely warm feeling once again returned, flooding his heart. 

Loud gasps echoed throughout the interior of the cathedral, then waves whispers broke out. Before priest Ravi could further share his view, Tessa waved her hand and stopped him in his tracks. He stepped backward, knowing his opinion was no longer required.

Tessa smiled, her forest-green eyes warm and kind, "God of West sees no class or ranks, fortune or poverty, only the hearts. They shine the sunlight and grace the rain on us all, their generosity ample and abundant. May they bless you, child." With that, a firethorn berry was placed in Yuzuru's palm, before her fingers gently brushed his hair to behind his ear.

The Japanese looked at her in gratitude. He didn't have the faintest idea about the political implication of such an act. However, he was deeply moved by such a gesture of acceptance and kindness, especially from someone who held one of the most important positions in the Canadian royal court. 

The berry was seedy and tart like cranberry in his mouth. But it was one of the most delicious things he had ever eaten.

Hours later, Yuzuru partook hatsumode***, the first shrine visit of the year in the Japanese tradition, accompanied by Shoma and Sota. He was never a spiritual person, for the God of East had shown so little mercy despite his mother's unrelenting prayers and offering. However, he was weak against the combined forces of his two friends' puppy eyes, so he quickly agreed after receiving the invitation from Shoma. 

Hours before the midnight struck, people gathered around the Tendo Temple, which was well known for its grand and bold red gates, imposing architectures, and a five-story pagoda. The ever imposing front entrance was guarded by two statues - Abe no Seimei****, the legendary onmyoji***** who served the God of East, and his partner Minamoto no Hiromasa******. 

The main temple hosted a statue of God of East. Their imposing and genderless form dancing amidst water and ice was carved out of jade, lacquered with gold, and accented with precious stones. Above them, some very significant historical religious artworks were fixtured on the ceiling, donated by wealthy Japanese believers over the generations. Some of them depicted God of East's origin, a supreme being born out of water and ice. The others portrayed how their kindness sustained the land and their people like nurturing rainfall and winter snow, and their fury punished those who were unfaithful like powerful avalanches and merciless tsunamis.

Despite the waning of faith in recent decades, God of East still maintained its influence over most of the Eastern Realms. A massive crowd still gathered around the temple, waiting for the grand bell made of copper and patinated by the passage of time to rung repeatedly, signalling the end of the old year and the coming of the new one for good fortunes.

Afterwards, all the visitors wait patiently in a long queue to ring the prayer bell and offer the first prayer in the New Year. When it was Yuzuru's turn, he pulled a thick bell rope with tassels that nearly reached the ground and then put in a coin into the offertory box. He offered a prayer for his mother, who he remembered with much fondness as well as sadness. His love for her would forever be a noose around his neck. Encompassed by a sense of helplessness, all he could do was coming to a shrine, offering a pointless prayer at the front of her God for her, begging for some scrap of mercy and kindness.

Shoma and Sota followed suit. Later, the three Japanese each drew an omikuji*******, a piece of paper that supposedly offer insights to their futures. Sota received chukichi********, indicating fair good luck that pointed toward a significant event that would alter his life course. Shoma received daikyo*********, which represented great disaster. And in this case, a significant loss that was to be expected. 

Meanwhile Yuzuru's was a piece of blank paper. They each took a turn to inspect it while gasping in surprise, as this was very unusual. Nonetheless, none of them took the omikuji too seriously. Shoma and Yuzuru, who had received unsatisfactory results, folded their piece of paper and tied them to a tree in the designated area as tradition dictated, which would supposedly prevent such futures from coming true. It was then Shoma had a glimpse of the bruised skin on Yuzuru's wrist as he reached for one of the higher branches, previously well hidden by his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Sukiyaki(鋤焼/すき焼き)*: is a Japanese dish that is prepared and served in the nabemono (Japanese hot pot) style. It consists of meat (usually thinly sliced beef) which is slowly cooked or simmered at the table, alongside vegetables and other ingredients in a shallow iron pot, with a mixture of soy sauce, sugar, and mirin. The ingredients are usually dipped in a small bowl of raw, beaten eggs after being cooked in the pot before eaten.
> 
> Hatsumode(初詣)***: is the first shrine/temple visit of the New Year in Japan. Many do so on the first, second, or third day of the year as most are off work on those days. There are often long lines at major shrines throughout Japan.
> 
> Onmyoji(陰陽師)*****: is a practitioner of the art of onmyodo(陰陽道), a traditional Japanese esoteric cosmology, a mixture of natural science and occultism. It is based on the Chinese philosophies of Wu Xing (five elements) and yin and yang, introduced into Japan at the beginning of the 6th century. 
> 
> Omikuji(おみくじ)*******: are Japanese fortune-telling paper strips that can be found at shrines and temples throughout the country. The fortune that one is granted can range from having a great blessing (大吉) to a great curse (大凶).
> 
> Chukichi(中吉)********: fair luck
> 
> Daikyo(大凶)*********: great disaster
> 
> In real life: 
> 
> Ravi Walia**: a Canadian figure skating coach and former competitor. He is the 1995 Canadian national bronze medallist and the 1993 Canadian national junior champion. He serves as an ISU Technical Specialist for Canada. He has coached several national and international champions such as Kaetlyn Osmond and Patrick Chan.
> 
> Abe no Seimei(安倍晴明)****: (February 21, 921 A.D.-October 31, 1005) was an onmyoji(陰陽師), a leading specialist of onmyodo(陰陽道) during the middle of the Heian period in Japan. In addition to his prominence in history, he is a legendary figure in Japanese folklore and has been portrayed in a number of stories and films.
> 
> Minamoto no Hiromasa(源博雅)******: (918-September 28, 980) was a nobleman and gagaku(雅楽), imperial court music and dance musician in the Heian period. He was the eldest son of Prince Katsuakira and the grandson of Emperor Daigo. His mother was the daughter of Fujiwara no Tokihira. In the films, literatures and games relating to Abe no Seimei(安倍晴明), he is often portrayed as his partner.


	21. Chapter 21

Shoma couldn't quite remember why he had called upon Ryuichi Kihara that night, or why he had retained him in the first place after he had sent the rest of sex slaves away. Being stashed away in an isolated room at the far end of his house, apart from the rest of his household, that man was a secret he didn't care to think about until now. 

Out of sight, out of mind, they said. But it was no longer the case after his return from the hatsumode*, as he suddenly remembered his little secret.

Out of pure impulse, he asked for that man to be sent to him. So there he was, sitting opposite to Shoma, and those delicate hands skilfully preparing a cup of sake** for him.

The clear liquid was first is poured into a tokkuri***, a ceramic flask, and then it was placed in a bath of hot water until it was warmed to the perfect temperature for a night like this.

Shoma would have sent him away after that knowing how stupid this was, if it wasn't for the fragile wrist peeking out beneath the sleeve of the kimono with a ring of bruise in the shape of a handprint. It was fading but still very much visible. 

"Are you... treated well here?" He frowned. The idea of his household mistreating anyone was unacceptable.

The older man lifted his head and smiled in gratitude, "Yes, Uno-sama**** has been most kind."

"But that bruise on your wrist..."

"It is a marks of affection from my previous mistress, Uno-sama, a sign of ownership. And I wear it with pride." He replied with a soft and serene smile. He titled his head slightly to the left as he spoke, in a manner that reminded Shoma so much of Yuzuru that his heart skipped a beat.

The meaning of these words sank in. And a lump formed in Shoma's throat, the air around them heated by the fireplace was suddenly too stuffy to breathe in.

Moving next to his new master, Ryuichi had his head lowered while he poured the warmed sake into Shoma's choko***** cup, both hands cradling the tokkuri respectfully. 

"My mistress was kind." The older man continued, "She gifted me with countless gowns, jewels and attention. She elevated me above the rest. And in turn, I repaid her with everything that I own - my heart and my soul, because people like me have little else to offer."

His voice was full of nostalgic longing. His face became animated like life had been breathing into a beautiful doll. A heart that was briefly warmed by happiness that only existed in the past, where contentment and love existed. 

At that moment, Shoma could hardly tell who he was looking at - Ryuichi who was deep in his memories, or his best friend who had always radiated such an aura of happiness whenever he was around the Second Prince, like that man's mere existence brighten up his universe. He drowned a few cups of sake hastily.

It didn't take that long for all that alcohol to get to him, with him being a less experienced drinker. In his somewhat intoxicated state, Shoma's eyes had wandered. From that angle, the younger man was awarded the beautiful side profile of Ryuichi, from the loose strands of hair that fell from his braids that framed a delicate face, to his soft gentle eyes, and beautiful kissable lips, and long elegant neck.

As if being enchanted, his eyes couldn't help but trail lower, to the delicate collar bone that was peeking behind the tightly secured kimono. Only when the older man leaned forward, the collar would be stretched wide enough to allow Shoma to see a flash of the skin. 

He didn't know what came over him, the next thing he knew he had the older man pinned beneath him, tokkuri and choko fallen off from the table to the tatami******, the sweet aroma of the spilled sake intensified in the air.

He was immediately taken back by his own impulsive action. Before he could pull himself up, the edge of Ryuichi's kimono parted, as one of his long legs made its way to Shoma's left thigh. And Shoma trembled uncontrollably for reasons he couldn't even understand.

"For tonight, and for as many nights as you wish for, I'm here to be whoever you want me to be." The older man whispered into his ears, like a mermaid singing to a lone sailor lost in the vast sea. Every word was a spell that bound, and Shoma found himself ceasing in his struggle.

With a demure smile, Ryuichi's hand laid on top of his, guiding his trembling fingers to seek out what was hidden between his naked thighs. Shoma was about to object, but those words died in his throat. Ryuichi was so warm and real against his hands, responding to his every touch exact the same way as that one person did in his wild fantasies. It was more real than any of the wet dreams that he had. The figments, which only existed in his head that fell apart the moment he choked out that one name while coating his own hands with cum.

"Tell me what he calls you," The older man whispered. His eyes dark and inviting beneath his long lashes.

"Sho-kun," Shoma replied, his entire body trembled as it was overwhelmed with needs. 

"Sho-kun..." Ryuichi complied, those sweet words murmured in the exact same way that person did in his dreams, so sweet and needy.

And he continued to chant those words as Shoma pushed his erection into him. He whispered them soothingly when the younger man practically came the moment he was inside of him, so inexperienced that he was overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that was nothing like what his right hand could provide. He pressed a sweet kiss to that pouty mouth, before gliding down and took his soften penis between his lips. He licked and sucked it expertly until it was brought back to hardness again. 

And this time, he straddled the younger man and then impaled himself on the reawaken erection. His body that moved in wild abandonment was a sight to behold. His braid had long fallen apart, long strands of hair danced under the night light like a pair of dark wings, his kimono wrinkled and loosened, barely held together by the obi******* belt. 

Shoma soon got hold the hang of it, hips thrusting upward in his chase of that exquisite pleasure. With his youthful stamina on his side, he soon gained the upper hand and flipped their position over. He had Ryuichi pined underneath him once again. His lips sought out the bruises on his wrists, kissing them with a vigorous hunger. He was driven mad with the need to replace them with his own marks, while his hips thrusting in a maddening pace. He screamed that name while he came, the name he had only dared to use in the wee hour of the mornings, where his guilty secret was safe from the world.

His mind was blinded by the intensity of his orgasm. But as soon as he caught his breath, the sense of wrongness came crashing down. His eyes ran over the older man who laid submissively beneath him, face flushed and eyes closed, and he felt the overwhelming sense of nausea. It had dawned to him that what he had was nothing but a cheap replica. A mockery to his feelings that he had held so close to his heart, a secret that he never dared to share. Just like that, a sense of anger emerged.

But his harsh words died before they could come out from his lips because it was the exact moment he saw them - scars, so many that he couldn't even count. With Ryuichi's kimono fallen apart in their coitus, his body was on open display. It was a horrifying sight. Not an inch of the skin spared, it was covered by wounds in various stages of healing. There were bruises in the shape of handprints. The contusions to the chest and the waist that most likely caused by hard kicks and punches. The jagged open wounds were most likely caused by things with ragged edges, like a broken piece of glass. The smooth ones were probably made by sharp blades. A sense of pity overcame him.

"I'll send a doctor to you." He said, voice soft and apologetic. This was a man who was simply trying to gain his favour, with the only mean he understood in order to survive in a new household. He should have the decency to recognise that, at least. 

"Thank you," The older man's eyes fluttered open, his smile soft and serene as he pulled the fallen collars back to his shoulder. The silk material once again in place to hide his ugliness from the world, "But it won't be necessary. I will never be whole again anyway."

This was a truth that both of them were well aware of. Some of the scars are dark and protruding, the telltale sign of ones made by rubrum steel blades, the hardest and toughest metal in all realms. Rumoured be blessed by both the God of West and God of East, weapons fashioned from this material left behinds wounds that were incredibly difficult to heal even with healing potions. And those that managed to heal would leave behind ugly scars that no magic or time could erase. Weapons that were made from pure rubrum steel had long since been renowned for this reason. They would have been the weapon of choice for all the realms if it wasn't for rebrum steel's scarcity and the level of skills required for swordsmiths to turn them into weapons.

The older man continued, his voice light and sure like he was talking about the sun rising from the east and setting at the west, "We existed for the pleasure of our masters and mistresses only. We are vessels for their desires that they couldn't vent off otherwise."

"I'm so envious of Yuzuru, he has someone as loving and gentle as you are by his side." He smiled at Shoma, his face open with quiet resignation and a hint of longing, "So protect him, before he ends up like me."

Shoma's fists tightened as he thought about the bruise on Yuzuru's wrist, and only God of East knew how many more hidden beneath his expensive gowns that were gifts from the Second Prince. At that moment, he had found justification for what he had always longed to do. Those ugly thoughts that used to only dared to exist in the darkest nights had now crawled their way to the open. And they took such firm hold in his head that they became the only things he could think about in the many days that were to come.

Ryuichi bowed and excused himself from the room, leaving his new master to a world of desire and turmoil. His lips twisted into a dark smile. Now the seeds had been planted, all he needed to do was to wait for them to sprout like wild grasses after a long winter, their roots ran long, wide and ineradicable. 

\------------------------------

The new year brought about many changes. One of them being Sota leaving for Royal Military College of Canada, which was located on Point Frederick in Kingston, Ontario. It was the only military college in Canada, producing military officers for the Canadian Armed Forces. 

Javier was the one who brought Yuzuru's attention to Sota's future. He talked about the younger Japanese aptitude in sword fighting, which was especially impressive considering he had never received any formal training, and his interest in military affairs. Yuzuru was suddenly reminded that the boy was about to be 13 years old, and it was definitely the time to consider his future. 

Unlike Yuzuru, Sota did receive some formal education in Japan. But given his background, it was very minimal and restrictive. Empress Hashimoto had a strict policy regarding those who had ties to the Hanyu family, restricting their roles in Japanese society while placing different degrees of surveillance on them. After their arrival in Canada, Sota was able to attend basically all the classes with Yuzuru took as his companion. It had been very beneficial for them as they both started with all the beginning lessons and moving up from there. However, Sota was never recognised as a student of TCC Academy. And therefore, no matter how diligent he had been in keeping up with the coursework, he would never receive any formal recognition.

That would mean the options for his future would be severely limited even in a society where he was not discriminated because of his family name. A life of servantry was not what Yuzuru would have wanted for a boy who was practically his brother. 

Sota was more than enthusiastic when he was presented with his option, judging by his excited squeals. So arrangements were made swiftly like all things were when the Second Prince made his request known. Acceptance letter came ten days before the school term started, just enough time for Sota to pack his bags and get himself ready to start a new chapter in his life. 

They celebrated Sota's 13th birthday in the Fernandez House, the day before his departure. Yuzuru gave him a decorative blade that he could wear around his waist. Decorated with motifs and stones, it didn't look that much different to all the other blades and daggers that many Canadian wore as fashion accessories, but it was certainly much more useful than making a fashion statement. Yuzuru, who still remembered his severe injury in the hands of David Barkell and his gangs, wanted Sota to have an inconspicuous mean to protect himself.

With a strong magic stone embedded inside the handle, it was a weapon infused with magic, strong enough to cut through almost all armours and blades, except for those made with pure rubrum steel. It was produced by the number one weaponry in Japan and in all realms, the Ando Weaponry, which was known for its unparallel craftsmanship in magical weapons and armours. Japan compensated the lack of natural-born magical abilities in their population by perfecting their magical weaponry. Magic weapons and armours produced by other masters in other realms paled to them in comparison like the starlight to the sun rays, in terms of power, stability and durability. And despite all the affords in past generations, no one had been able to reverse engineer these despite the unimaginable wealth promised by their kings and queens. 

On the day of Sota's departure, either of them shed tears, despite the rim of their eyes reddened. Yuzuru took solace in the facts that Royal Military College was only a day's ride away, and the younger man would be back between the school terms. And Sota put up a strong face, trying to show that he was all grown up now to spare Yuzuru from his worries. Yuzuru watched as Sota rode away, until his horse undistinguishable in the whitened horizon. 

The school term started shortly afterwards. Yuzuru's classmates eagerly came around to his desk to congratulate him on not only successfully luring the Second Prince back to his bed, but securing a place in the Fernandez household. Ryuichi was long forgotten news, faded from people's memories. Most likely he had found an alternative patron given the circumstances, they said, as he no longer worked at the Blue Moon. 

The degrading remarks had been kept to the minimum. Most people had recognised the shift in tides after the High Priestess had graced Yuzuru with such generous gesture. And given the Second Prince's obvious attachment to the Japanese, these people, although not as politically savvy as their parents, were at least wise enough to keep their mouths shut if they didn't have anything pleasant to say.

It took Yuzuru very little time to understand the significance of what took place at the New Year's eve service. A relationship blessed by the High Priestess or the High Priest was a rare occurrence and an incredible honour. The court was already whispering about turning of the tide, of the Second Prince once again gaining favour with the God for the reason that was well beyond their understanding. Perhaps this was a sign, a prelude to the coronation that was to come for the God of West had surely had made their choice, they speculated, while others dismissed such as complete prevarication. 

Belated birthday gifts and well wishes kept coming in, an irony to the previous hostility and degradation. Suddenly Yuzuru was someone in upper society. And now everyone wanted to be known as his friend. Yuzuru, on the other hand, was more than happy to let Javier's team to deal with these appropriately, as he was now formally recognised as part of the Fernandez House, and his actions reflected on the Prince and his household.

What Yuzuru didn't expect was Akihisa being one of them. One afternoon, after he had finished his schooling for the day, he found a carriage with the Nagashima family crest waiting by the gate of the TCC Academy. 

A servant pulled opened the carriage door with a bow. And there sat Akihisa with his fine gowns and jewels.

"Our Empress sends her regard, and she wishes to reward you for managing such a great accomplishment." The older man said, his dark eyes were usually warm and friendly. 

Just like that, dread crept over Yuzuru like an icy wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Hatsumode(初詣)*: is the first shrine/temple visit of the New Year in Japanese tradition. Many do so on the first, second, or third day of the year as most are off work on those days. There are often long lines at major shrines throughout Japan.
> 
> Sake(酒)**: is an alcoholic beverage made by fermenting rice that has been polished to remove the bran.
> 
> Tokkuri(徳利)***: is flask that is used to serve sake. It's generally bulbous with a narrow neck, but may have a variety of other shapes.
> 
> -sama(様)****: one of the honorific titles in Japanese, it is used out of respect and implies recipient's superiority in status in this instance. 
> 
> Choko(猪口)*****: is a cup used for drinking sake. It is generally small and cylindrical in shape.
> 
> Tatami(畳)******: is a type of mat used as a flooring material in traditional Japanese-style rooms. Tatami are covered with woven soft rush straws. The core is traditionally made from rice straw, but contemporary ones sometimes have compressed wood chip boards or polystyrene foam cores.
> 
> Obi(帯/おび)*******: is a sash for traditional Japanese dress, and is part of kimono outfits. The obi for men's kimono is rather narrow, 10 centimetres (3.9 in) wide at most, but a woman's formal obi can be 30 centimetres (12 in) wide and more than 4 metres (13 ft) long. For a man, it is to be wrapped around the waist, below the stomach and tied with a simple knot in the back.


	22. Chapter 22

Yuzuru was, of course, reluctant to go with Akihisa. Unfortunately, his will hardly mattered when his mother was still in the hands of Empress Hashimoto. He took comfort in the fact that they had been seen together in broad daylight, and surely even this man wasn't brazen enough to bring harm to him this way. 

The carriage ride was a long and mostly silent one. Akihisa had plastered on an overly friendly smile. It was such an unusual sight that unease filled the younger man's head the whole way. It lasted probably about an hour based on his estimation. When the carriage finally stopped, Yuzuru found himself in Achtman Lane, in one of the more secluded suburbs in Toronto. 

By the cobblestone pathway, was a small house made with red bricks. There was a small front garden that segregated the property from the rest of the street and offered some privacy. 

Akihisa patted his back. With an unusual amount of enthusiasm, he ushered Yuzuru through the door.

The younger man was directed to see the interior. It was a fully furnished house with 2 bedrooms and a study. A fire was already lit, the air inside was warm and inviting against the cold winter air they just braced, with the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal awaited on the dining table. Standing beside it was a young woman, who looked to be about 10 years older than Yuzuru. 

Yuzuru's eyes widened in surprise. He had recognised the woman. Her name was Akiko Suzuki*, the daughter of Hiroshi Nagakubo**, a prominent member of society in Japan who had recently passed away. At the age of 28, she was one of the official delegates being sent to Canada, a respectable position given her status. 

Upon seeing them, she kneeled down and bowed. Her head lowered until it was parallel to the floor, her hands cupped and the tips of her forefingers touching the ground in the way of respect.

"Our Empress is most generous," Akihisa stated while paying her no attention, "This house and whatever that are inside are yours now. "

"I... I don't understand," Said Yuzuru, who was thoroughly confused by this display of generosity. Not to mention the presence of Akiko and her overly humble demeanour. 

It was when the older man's lips curled up, his eyes dark with malevolence, "Our Empress is most kind. She has decided to grant you the privilege to continue your family line."

The younger man, who finally understood what was being asked of him, just stood there. He was eyes wide and speechless, as Akiko got up from her knees at Akihisa's gesture, and started to undress. 

\-----------------------------------

Yuzuru returned to the Fernandez House about two hours later, pale as a ghost. He escaped inside through the back door and managed to make through to his bedroom with minimal interaction with any of the staff members. His hood was lowered; enough to hide his wide and panicked eyes from any intrusive gaze.

He barely made it to his private bathroom before he emptied all his stomach content into the toilet. Gastric acid burnt his oesophagus, and bile was lingering bitterness that he couldn't get rid of no matter how many he cleaned his mouth.

His fingers trembled, as he recalled the feeling of naked skin against his hands, warm and soft. He could still feel the muscles underneath it tensing up like a string being pulled to its limit. And that brought upon another wave of nausea. 

He remembered how Akiko laid down on her kimono that had pooled on the floor like a sheet, her gaze diverted as she presented her naked body. Her face flushed with shame that she was failing to hide. 

Yuzuru's first instinct was to look away, only to have Akihisa taking hold of him from behind. His fingers clamp onto his chin like iron claws, forcing his head straight. So he was forced to take in what the older man had wanted him to see - the milky smooth skin, the generous and womanly curves, the arms that spread out and pressing against the floor in an act that meant to submit, and the trembling thighs that pressed tightly together that betrayed her unwillingness in this matter. 

With a kick to the back of his knees, Akihisa easily forced Yuzuru to kneel on the floor. Yuzuru's back trembled, as he felt the pressure exerted by the older man, his face inches away from her body. He could literally hear the loud thudding of her heartbeats, just as rapid as his. The air around them soured with the smell of fear and humiliation, it was barely breathable.

The younger man's first instinct was to struggle out Akihisa hold, but he was stopped dead by a whisper that aimed at his ear, "Remember that we still have Yumi Hanyu in our hands." He stiffened, then all his struggles ceased. Akihisa hummed in satisfaction, knowing he was now the puppet master who held all the strings. So he made all his puppets dance to his tune.

He had his right hand covering Yuzuru's, directing his stiffen finger to trail down on the expansion of pale skin. Together, their fingers tips traced passed the swell of her breasts before moving down to the flat stomach that contracted violently upon contact.

The older man laughed, "See how beautiful she is? And that belly will soon swell with your child." 

But he didn't stop there. He forced Yuzuru's finger to go down further. The woman beneath them hesitated at first but ultimately spread her trembling legs. Yuzuru's eyes widen as he understood the older man's intention. He tried to stop it, but Akihisa was unrelenting until both of their fingers, all of four of them sank into the warm fold between her thighs. Her face scrunched up in pain as her body stiffened. Then her back arched off the floor, it was when he felt the moisture on his fingers. 

Akihisa was finally satisfied, as he let out of Yuzuru's hand. The younger man hastily withdrew his own hand, which was already stained with blood.

"A virgin to ensure the purity of your bloodline," Akihisa commented, "Our Empress is most generous and kind."

"And I'm eternally grateful." Yuzuru murmured automatically. His mind completely went blank. All he could see was the blood on his fingertips, staining the seams around his nail beds. All he could feel was the dread that coiled in his stomach. So years of training kicked in, he muttered the gratitude as he had always been taught to do since childhood.

"Now do your job." With that, the older man gave him a hard push, so he staggered down between her legs, which parted further to accommodate him. God of East knew no mercy, at least none for unimportant people like them - low lives that lived out their numbered days like ants underneath thumbs that would come crashing down any moment. 

His fingers trembled uncontrollably as he tried to unfasten his pants, buttons and ribbons that refused to give way. He kept his eyes upward, so he didn't have to see that naked body displayed in front of him. Instead, he saw her face before he quickly diverted his gaze away - the brows that were scrunched tightly, the eyes that were moistened around the corners, and a bottom lip that was bitten so hard that it bled. 

He knew he wasn't up to the task right from the beginning. It didn't matter how much he tried, he couldn't get himself hard under Akihisa's unforgiving scrutiny. 

Finally, the older man lost his patience and dragged him off her. Before Yuzuru had a chance to sigh in relief, Akihisa ordered her to punish herself for not being able to gain Yuzuru's favour. Given now Yuzuru was the property of the Second Prince, and any mark on him would surely arouse suspicion, Akiko took the brunt of his fury instead.

Just like all those years ago, when the older man first introduced Yuzuru to sex by having him watch a boy about his age being dismantled and then rebuilt to an entirely different being in a matter of days, he was once again being taught a lesson this way. And this time he was made to kneel there on his hands and knees as she slapped herself repeatedly. The sound of flesh clashing echoed throughout the room, they were sickening loud. His stomach churned, he could already taste the gastric acid on his tongue. By the time she was ordered to stop, her face was red and badly swollen. She could barely talk, and yet she bowed and thanked Akihisa for his "kindness."

"I expect more efforts from both you next time, or I won't be so kind." These were his parting words before the older man left. And, Yuzuru couldn't get out of that house fast enough.

A gentle knock on his bedroom door broke him out of his dark memories. He struggled as he got to his feet and walked to the door. His maid, Peng Cheng, was there to deliver a message from Javier. It was to inform him that a very special guest had arrived tonight unexpectedly and she would be joining them for dinner in about 10 minutes.

Yuzuru gave his acknowledgement and shut the door before her curious eyes could see his state. A shower was out of the question given the time. The best he could do was to wash away the sweat that lingered on his face, brush out the tangles in his hair, and exchange his badly wrinkled gown for a fresh one and hoped he looked nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet his fingers still trembled, his throat raw and tender, and anxiety and dread that continued to bubble inside of him like magma, a volcano just waiting to erupt.

And this was the state he was in when he met Duchess Maria Teresa Samaranch***, one of the most influential figures in the Spanish Royal Court, auntie to both Queen Laura Fernandez of Spain, and the Second Prince Javier Fernandez of Canada for the first time. 

In her 50s and still beautiful, she was the type who drew a crowd whenever she entered a room. She dressed very simply and elegantly, in a steel grey gown that was the exact shade of her grey eyes. Her wavy blond hair was pulled back into a simple bun. She didn't need to adorn herself with luxurious furs or jewels. Power was the most prominent accessory after all. On her right hand was a giant ruby ring in teardrop cut, sharp and dark like a drop of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life: 
> 
> Akiko Suzuki(鈴木明子)*: is a retired Japanese figure skater. She is the 2012 World Championships bronze medalist, a three-time Grand Prix Final medalist (2011 silver, 2009 & 2012 bronze), a two-time Four Continents silver medalist (2010, 2013), and the 2014 Japanese national champion. She placed eighth at the 2010 and 2014 Winter Olympics.
> 
> Hiroshi Nagakubo(長久保裕)**: is a retired Japanese figure skating coach and pair skater. With his skating partner, Kotoe Nagasawa(長沢琴枝), he became a five-time (1967–1971) Japanese national champion and competed at the 1972 Winter Olympics, placing 16th. After retiring from competition, he became a coach at the Howa Sports Land Skating Club in the Aichi Prefecture. He ceased coaching on September 3, 2017, due to family circumstances. He coached Akiko Suzuki(鈴木明子) from the early 2000s until her retirement in 2014.
> 
> Maria Teresa Samaranch***: daughter of International Olympic Committee (IOC) president Juan Antonio Samaranch. She is the second Marchioness of Samaranch, a hereditary title of Spanish nobility. The title was initially bestowed by King Juan Carlos I of Spain on her father on 30 December 1991, honouring his efforts in support of the Olympic movement as President of the International Olympic Committee. She is a member of the ISU Council, representing Spain.
> 
> A BIG thank you to submerging_artist who gave me the wonderful gift of a Yuzuru funko, based on his Otonal program which inspired this fic. He is so adorable and beautiful!  
[](https://imgbb.com/)


	23. Chapter 23

"I didn't know it has become a Fernandez House tradition to allow a household whore to share a table with the masters." Was the first thing Duchess Maria Teresa Samaranch had said to Yuzuru. Her dark grey eyes barely glanced at the Japanese, before she turned to the Second Prince, and asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Yuzuru, who was about to take his usual seat by the table stiffened. It was Javier who came around and placed a chaste peck on his lips, "Tía*, you are mistaken. This is Yuzuru, my partner." His voice was exasperated and yet fond. 

Maria finally graced Yuzuru with a second glance before she smiled, and replied apologetically, "I'm sorry for my mistake. I used to have one who looked very much like him. He was a delight to have around."

The Japanese bit lips. 

Dinner started awkwardly, with Javier trying hard to warm up the atmosphere with small talks directing at both of them. 

The air inside the dining room was heated and stuffy with the fire burning in the fireplace. The Japanese sat in his chair, folks and knife slicing and pushing the food in his plate around, smiling politely at every joke and small talk that Javier told. But his mind wandered easily with what had transgressed a few hours ago. It still played behind his eyelids like a nightmare he could never escape from. His thoughts kept drifting off to a future that now had been tainted and strained. It was as if all the sounds in the word had been turned off, and all he could see was Javier's smiles as he talked, and Maria's dark grey eyes that were weighing him up. Their mouths moved, and yet not a sound that could be heard. Suddenly it was all too hard to breathe.

It was Javier's hand that reached out for his that broke him out of the trance. His first instinct was to shrink away, with the memory of having Akihisa's hand on top of his was still so fresh. The Prince's eyes widened in surprise. Upon realising what he had done, Yuzuru hastily grabbed on to Javier's fingers before he could withdraw them. He gave those digits a light squeeze, apologetically. He exhaled in relief when Javier returned his gesturing with a soothing smile. 

That little exchange didn't escape Maria, who quietly took it all in while sipping on her wine.

The dinner went much smoother after that. Yuzuru pulled himself together and put on his charm. Maria graced the table with a few tales of Javier's childhood, to a very embarrassed Second Prince. Yuzuru was soon captivated by a story of a boy chasing after a deer and getting lost in the forest for days. 

Both of them put in efforts to get along for the sake of the one man they both cared for. By the time she was ready to take her leave, Yuzuru was addressing her as Aunt Maria just like Javier did, but in English. She gave him a peck on his cheek and called him a darling. And the Second Prince smiled fondly at both of them, so glad to see the two people he cared for were getting along so well, despite the initial hiccup.

The Prince kissed Yuzuru tenderly that night, thanking him for his afford, "I'm glad you are getting along because you are both important to me." 

Javier told him about his aunt Maria, sister to his father, the woman who secured the Spanish crown for Queen Laura Fernandez in a turbulent time and how she had worked tirelessly to ensure Spain's prosperity and peace over the years. She was never married and childless. She literally raised the siblings since their parents passed away 20 years ago.

"Then she's important to me too," Yuzuru replied with a smile. And for that, he was awarded another kiss.

Sleep didn't come that night, or for many nights after. Yuzuru was wide awake, overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness despite curling his body to Javier and being secured between those arms that crossed at his waist possessively in sleep. And yet, the lonesomeness was still there, which stemmed from a secret he was not allowed to share. 

In those hours, the time had taken on a different form. It stretched longer and endlessly so. His mind had become a whirlpool of torrent thoughts that were swift incessantly and leading to nowhere. Yuzuru had his hands clutching onto the sakura diamond necklace that Javier had given him, like an anchor in this never-ending vortex that was dragging him down to an abyss. 

Like any task being set for him, Akihisa had made his rules clear. Yuzuru was required to come to the house in Achtman Lane at least twice a week until his duty was fulfilled. And all this of course, was to be kept away from the Second Prince. Either he or Empress Hashimoto wished to see Japan's alliances with Canada being put to risk after all. Therefore Yuzuru had no choice but to keep his mouth shut with his mother in Empress Hashimoto's hands as leverage. A noose on his neck that he would never break free from. 

So he complied. Perhaps Akihisa wanted the job done swiftly, and without any fuss, Yuzuru was always drugged. A combination of hallucinogens and aphrodisiac mixed in a tea that he was made to drink. In those moments, Akiko became the love of his love, her sensual body warm and welcoming, enfolding him. And he craved that warmth. It reminded him of the two-hour sunlight that graced his window in his dark dungeon, where he lived the first 15 years of his life. 

He woke up to the reality where she hugged her knees, huddling herself to a far corner of the bed. Her dark eyes hidden behind her arms, a futile act to disengage herself from the world. He just felt so cold. An iciness that had penetrated him through his pores, clinging onto his bones and flesh. 

Yuzuru understood why Empress Hashimoto was after a child of his blood - the exact same reason she had allowed the Hanyu line to continue over the generations. The possibilities of producing children with magical traits. 

The mystery of lack of people with magic trait in the Japanese population continued to cause tension in Japanese society. For generations, there had been rumours that this was a curse or a punishment for betraying the Hanyu family, a line that was chosen by the God of West. Hence the reigning monarchs had always been extremely motivated to find a cause and a solution to this problem. A necessity to maintaining their power over the country. No coins or resources had been spared over the years, and no avenues or possibilities were ever overlooked. Despite all their affords, little had been achieved. Saya Hanyu had been the most promising lead so far, and unfortunately, she didn't survive the battery of tests that they forced her to undergo. And they now were desperate for their next subject before they completely lost their control over Yuzuru. 

Yuzuru had thought about going against their wishes. In the beginning, he tried ingesting a contraceptive potion. But when the first month had passed and Akiko failed the pregnancy test, they both faced the full brunt of Akihisa's fury.

Akiko was made to kneel on the floor. The top half of her gown was stripped off. Her tied hands were holding onto her own shoulders, trying to block her naked flesh from the lewd gaze of the men. Her bareback took on a lashing in the hand of a servant, each stroke leaving behind a bloody trail. She sobbed quietly. Her cries of pain were muffled as she bit onto her bottom lip so hard that it was bleeding. For people like them, even tear shedding was a luxury as it could easily be misinterpreted as an unwillingness to repent.

Yuzuru had come care for her in those weeks. It was not love. Far from it. Rather, it was a strange bond that formed in suffering that they were both made to endure. In the rare moments that Akiko was willing to talk, he had managed to find out more about her, specifically how someone with her impressive lineage ended up here in this house. 

Despite being the firstborn and legal heir to a prestigious family, she lost her position due to her stepmother, the ever-resourceful Kotoe Nagasawa**, after her father Hiroshi Nagakubo*** had passed away. After a little made-up scandal, she was forced to leave Japan before she could "shame" her family further. Originally, Kotoe had intended to have her killed in the journey across the ocean as they made their way to Canada, but Akihisa saw a use for her and offer his protection instead. A clean and prestigious bloodline to dilute the dirty Hanyu blood. No one knew Akihisa's methods better than Yuzuru and how he broke people's spirit with cruelty and psychological manipulations. She had so little fight left in her by this point.

Yuzuru closed his eyes in despair, but the image of her bloody back had been burnt into the back of his eyelid, "Stop! It's not her fault! You know that!"

"Of course I do, but I can hardly touch you, can't I?" Akihisa smirked. His fingers grabbing onto Yuzuru's long strands of hair, holding him in place to make sure he didn't miss a second of the show. 

The younger man's body trembled as more lashes landed, marring the once smooth skin further. Akihisa, who had his entire body pressing against Yuzuru's back was very much aroused. Nothing turned him on like pain and suffering of others. His clothed erection poked onto the back of Yuzuru's ass, as he found enjoyment in every bit of his shuddering, "If you dislike her so much, I could easily swap her for someone more pleasing to your eyes."

Upon hearing these those words, Akiko lifted her head, her tear-stained face had gone ghostly white. Her dark eyes were desperate and pleading. And Yuzuru had no choice but to relent. Resistance was futile anyway.

So the days passed between the happiness that only existed in his drugged state and the guilt that was eating into his heart in reality. To receive a smile from Javier, or feel his warmth against him every night had become torturous. Every gesture of love and kindness he received from the man had become a reminder of his own betrayal, all their intimacy and closeness now tainted and blemished. No loving words or sweet kisses or lavish gifts could soothe his soul, they only caused his anguish to intensify. 

Yuzuru put up a smile, keeping his amour of pretence secured, even though the coldness had seeped through all the cracks and chips. He offered his mouth. His lips wrapped tightly around Javier's erection. His head bobbled enthusiastically as he forced himself to take it all in, chocking & splattering, until he could taste the bitter cum at the back of his own throat. He hated to lie to the man he had come to care for, but when lies were all he could offer he choose to silence the questions instead.

The dark shadows beneath his eyes intensified whenever he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror. But it would soon flicker and be replaced by another image. It was his sister Saya who was no longer smiling at him. Instead, she looked at him with her sad and pitying eyes, as if every bit of pain he had experienced was felt by her too. 

But he knew better. This was nothing but another trick played by Axel, yet another way to torment him to submission. He could hardly stand that. In a moment of pure rage, he picked up the nearest object and threw at her. He had no idea it was, but it hit the mirror with a satisfying thud before landing onto the floor, leaving behind a cracked reflection of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Tía*: auntie in Spanish.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Kotoe Nagasawa(長沢琴枝)** and Hiroshi Nagakubo(長久保裕)***: a team of retired Japanese pair skaters, and figure skating coaches. They are five-time (1967–1971) Japanese national champions, and they competed at the 1972 Winter Olympics, placing 16th. After retirement, Hiroshi Nagakubo(長久保裕) coached Akiko Suzuki(鈴木明子) from the early 2000s until her retirement in 2014.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praying for yuzu to win his very first 4cc 🥇 & career super slam! 🙏🙏🙏

The day Yuzuru dreaded finally came.

In that afternoon, he felt that tiny spark of magic that took refuge inside Akiko for the first time. Even hidden behind all the skin, fatty tissues and muscles, he felt its presence so acutely. It was small and fragile, but definitely there. 

His entire world came crashing down. 

A child. 

A child born with magical trait, an incredible rarity.

A child with his blood, who was destined to follow his cursed fate. A pawn on someone else's chessboard with a lifetime of fear and unhappiness. This was a cruel fate he would never wish onto anyone, let along his own child.

For the first time in a long time, he broke down and cried. As soon as he got back to the Fernandez House, and his own bedroom door shut behind him, the tears came flooding down. It had taken so long, and so much love from Javier to nurture that tiny flicker of hope inside of him into a flame that burnt bright so he could see a future of happiness and contentment. But just like that, it had been snuffled out. His world was once again reduced to boundless darkness. 

He knew the easiest way out was to let go of that child, ignoring its existence, and just go back to his old life. He could easily pretend the past few weeks never existed now his job was done, and sought for his own happiness once again. But he simply couldn't consider this option. In those mere minutes, he had already come to love that tiny being. 

Even without a heartbeat yet, it called to him. And he gravitated toward it like it was the centre of his universe. He couldn't explain the feeling. He just knew that he wanted his child to have everything he could possibly give, even if it became another noose on his neck. For the first time, he truly understood what love was. The immensity of such emotion was both beautiful and terrifying. 

It was the same love that had sustained his mother and sister in those years of hardship, who used their frail bodies and pure will to protect him and nurtured him to the best of their abilities. He remembered his sister, and her soothing smiles and happy stories, and how her hands blistered and bled as she tried to make toys out of wood and scrap materials just to give him a childhood. She hid her pain so he could have some happiness in that bleak place, where hope and happiness were luxuries, even as blood oozed through the makeshift bandages inside her threadbare clothes. He remembered his mother, who looked like she had aged more than 20 years overnight after his father had passed away, merely days after his sister's death. And yet she pulled herself together, and shown him a lesson in strength and enduring. And now that same love coursed through his veins, giving him a will that he didn't know he possessed. 

So he pulled himself together. Tears left behind a few salty trails on his cheeks. But his eyes were already dry. It was then he felt that calling, the same calling that he had experienced in the last a few days. He looked up to a mirror at the front of him. Soon, his own image was once again replaced by Saya's. Only this time, her expression was determined and hardened, practically a mirror of his own. She extended her hand, an invitation to be taken or rejected. And this time, Yuzuru reached out as well, until both of their hands touched. It was blistering cold, like a sheet of ice. 

She smiled, her lips twisted to a wicked curve. 

\------------------------------------------

Javier knew his Tía was in Canada for a reason, and it was most definitely not for the trade renegotiations between Canada and Spain. It certainly didn't warrant someone of Duchess Maria Teresa Samaranch's status to travel across the ocean for what was nothing more than a formality. Or according to Maria, she missed her favourite nephew dearly.

The two of them locked themselves inside Javier's private study, before Maria opened on the topic of Javier's marriage, "Princess Miki Ando, the firstborn of the Empress Consort of Japan."

Although granted with a royal title, Miki Ando didn't have any royal blood in her. She was the firstborn of the Emperor Consort from his first union before he was widowed and joined the Royal Family through his marriage to Empress Hashimoto. While Miki would never be in line for the throne, many had sought for her hand. Three years older than Javier, she was known for her beauty, wit and most importantly, her magnificent dowry - the Ando Weaponry, the finest magic weapon and armour manufacturer in all realms. Its significance was what secured the union between Empress Hashimoto and her Emperor Consort, and years of peace and prosperity in Japan as a result. And as the Ando family tradition dictated, it was to be inherited by the firstborn in each generation, regardless of their gender. 

In name, Emperor Consort still owned this enterprise. However, Miki, the firstborn of the Ando family and thus the future heir had been managing it for the past 5 years, allowing her father to focus on his duty to the royal family. Everyone knew taking her hand would mean gaining some degree of control on Ando Weaponry, thus making her a very attractive option to many.

"Many have proposed for her hand since she is old enough to marry, and yours is the first one being considered." Maria smiled teasing, "You must have made quite an impression somewhere."

Javier, of course, was familiar with Miki's well-known reputation of being extremely picky about her future spouse, hence still remaining single at the age of 25. 

He was familiar with the Princess. Intimately so. A few years ago, they had met in one of the trade summits in England, and the two of them had a whirlwind fling. Amidst the bitter winds and ceaseless rains, they sought enjoyment from each other, wantonly and passionately. Their bodies glistened with sweat, and their breath laboured with exertion as both of them were dazed by their orgasms. It was a crazy and wild week, no string attached. He was in lust with her, and that lust was well sated by the end of that week. After they parted ways, he rarely thought about her. After all, there was always more beautiful men and women to occupy his bed, each one gorgeous and alluring in their own ways.

"The Royal family has only one condition," She continued, "The first magical child out of your union would take on the Ando name and be raised in Japan. You are, of course, free to visit any time you choose to."

As if seeing Javier's confusion, she explained, "There hadn't been a person with magic trait born in that land for the last 15 decades. And Empress Hashimoto is extremely keen to bring some magical blood into the royal family, and your magic runs strong and vibrant."

Before Javier could voice his concern, she added, "I know this is unorthodox, but you are both young, and surely plenty of children would come to flourish your line. Your sister had invested a tremendous amount of coins, time, and resources in researching and developing magical weapons, and so little progress had been made over the years. Just like every other realm. Your union will be crucial for Spain."

"But tía, I love Yuzu." Javier signed. It wasn't hard for him to see the merit in this. Still, he could only think of Yuzuru, and how the future they had spoken about with so much enthusiasm being crushed to nothing.

Maria smiled indulgently at him, like a nephew who was naive enough to throw a tantrum, "I know. The good news is both the Royal court of Spain and Canada could be persuaded to tolerant him as your concubine. And I'm sure Princess Ando would be most understanding too in that aspect."

That Javier was sure of. After all, Princess Ando was also known for having a string of lovers over the years, her beauty and status made her extremely attractive. 

"Yuzu had received the blessing of the High Priestess. Our relationship is blessed by the God of West. People are looking at our union favourable." 

"That I have no doubt, especially those in support of the Crown Prince Patrick Chan. Perhaps the High Priest and High Priestess had their mind set on the Crown Prince so they didn't care who you plan to marry, and what strategic advantages your intended could bring to Canada." Maria countered, "Did you know your competition has asked for the hand of Prince Boyang Jin from China? Thinking of what that union could bring to Canada if it were to come to fruition - Canada's first alliance with one of the biggest realms in the East, and the trade and political advantages that would come as a result. And what could Yuzuru possibly bring for you, other than his beauty and his charm? You would be at an unbridgeable disadvantage in the race to the crown."

Javier closed his eyes in resignation, "Perhaps I'm never meant for a crown."

Maria shook her head. Her hands gently cupped his face, her face soft and apologetic "I know you haven't really forgiven me for putting my support behind your sister instead of you for the crown of Spain. For that, I'm sorry, my child. I love both of you dearly, but I had to make a choice. And she was the firstborn and had more support in the court."

Javier sighed. He could never begrudge either his sister or his auntie for losing his chance at seating on the Spanish throne. He simply loved them too much. Although in those nights that he was insomniac with homesickness, he was unhappy about being sent away to this foreign land without his family by his side at the age of 12, just so those in support of him couldn't have a chance to cause trouble. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make, all for the peace and prosperity of his beloved homeland, and to ensure it was free from civil wars and unrests.

"Let me make it up to you," Maria comforted him, "Let me help you to gain the Canadian crown. And you won't need to choose between power and love. I'll place my support behind Yuzuru as well, so no one would raise any noise about his existence in your life. I like the boy, he's pretty and intelligent. He can be useful in this household too. Like Johnny Weir to King Lambiel of Switzerland."

Everyone knew about the love story between Johnny Weir and King Lambiel, and the war that almost broke out between Switzerland and the United States of America as the result of that love affair. But beneath that love story of the century that was built on fancy words, juicy gossips, and spread through all realms in forms of songs and poetries, the truth behind those rose-tinted glasses was far less pretty. The fact of the matter was it was a relationship based on quid quo pro. Stéphane offered protection and financial support to allow Johnny to travel to all realms and pursue his love for dance, while Johnny used his charm, wit and expertise in bed to scout for secrets and secure alliances for Stéphane. 

"I don't think Yuzuru would agree to such an arrangement." Javier winced. His thought wandered to Yuzuru, and his hesitation when it came to sex until this day, a trauma that was deep and lasting. A sense of guilt he could never be free from.

"Don't be so sure. Everyone has a price. We just need to get him to come to an agreement about it." Maria smirked, her eyes glinting, "Besides, that boy is hardly as innocent as you make him be. Let me prove it to you."


	25. Chapter 25

Akihisa Nagashima was a little surprised when Yuzuru requested for a private meeting. A mere child who thought had he had sway in anything, what ludicrosity was this? He was about to tear the letter that was delivered to his hand, but he hesitated. 

The sheet of paper in his hands was the exact shade of Yuzuru's skin, porcelain-like and flawless. His thumb ran across its surface, savouring its smoothness. Just like that, he changed his mind.

Yuzuru came to his residence at the stroke of midnight. His entire body hidden in a black cloak, hood pulled so low that he could barely see his delicate chin. All that precaution and secrecy piqued Akihisa's interest. Now he was interested to know what that boy had to say, or rather, intended to do.

The younger man bowed and kept his head lowered, waiting for Akihisa's acknowledgement. The older man, on the other hand, wasn't in any hurry to as he enjoyed his tea with a ro*, a fire pit, keeping a pot of spring water at the desired temperature. This particular batch of new season tea leaves had just docked on the shore, its aroma sweet and delicate.

In the fireplace, flames danced on the logs. There were sounds of snap and crackle from time to time as woods splitting along their crevices and releasing steam into the fire. Apart from that, the room was deadly quiet. Akihisa was more than happy to take his time. Half an hour late, his young visitor had finally broken down and shifted uncomfortably under his prolonged gaze. 

"Why are you here, Yuzuru?" Akihisa asked after he finally decided to grace his guest with his words.

"I'm here to ask for your mercy, Nagashima-sama," That boy answered. He lowered his hood and looked up to him. His young face was pale and vulnerable. From where he was on the floor, he reminded Akihisa of a newly sprouted plant, and its shallow roots, tender leaves and fragile branches that were practically begging to be crushed beneath one's shoes. "For my mother, and for my future child!"

Akihisa chuckled, "And why would I risk our Empress's wrath to help someone like you?" 

"Because I could be of use to you." He said eagerly said, desperate to appeal for his sympathy and greed. 

The older man had no idea when or how Yuzuru had gotten so close to him. Still on his knees, the younger man was now practically by his feet, staring up at him with those wide and pleading eyes of his. Yuzuru was a perfect picture of innocence, so full of sincerity and desperation, so pretty that even Akihisa's cold heart was moved for a split second. It was then he felt those hands, long and delicate, holding onto his right thigh, being barely inches away from his crotch. Not so much an innocent child any more, was he? Akihisa mused as he put down his teacup. 

"And what use would I have for you?"

"Surely my connection to the Second Prince could be of use to you politically," Yuzuru answered, his voice sweet and humble, "Let me be your tool instead of Empress Hashimoto's."

"I could have you and your mother executed for just uttering those words," The older man was full of feigned anger. Empty threats, of course, not that boy needed to know. 

As he expected, Yuzuru paled instantly upon hearing these words. He threw himself at his feet, a trembling mess, "I beg for your forgiveness, Nagashima-sama!"

"And that you will certainly need to earn!" The older man took hold of his long strands of hair. He had them wrapped around his fingers just for extra grip as he dragged Yuzuru up from where he was on the floor, so now his beautiful face was practically level with his crotch. He was so close now that Akihisa could feel his breathing against his groin even through his pants, causing his cock to harden. 

Understanding dawned in those innocent eyes. Akihisa smirked before he let go of the younger man, so he could once again collapse by his feet. 

Akihisa was tempted by the offer. After all, he had many ambitions. His career had pretty much stagnated in the last decade or so. The Japanese Royal Court was already at the brim with politicians who had various connections to the members of the royal family. And opportunities for those who were born in the middle class were far and few. He had indeed made a lot further than most who were just like him. Still, his upbringing was a hurdle that was difficult to overcome despite what he had managed to achieve so far. His role as the Head of the Japanese Delegation to Canada had presented a unique opportunity to gain foreign support that could further his career, as well as certain trade purviews that allowed him to line his own pockets. He fully intended to take advantage of the situation in the duration of his appointed role, and having the Second Prince on his side definitely wouldn't hurt. 

Not to mention... He looked down on the quivering mess beneath his feet and smirked. The boy was like an oyster, its shell hide a sweet interior, waiting to be shucked. All he had to do was to place the tip of the shucking knife at the base of the hinge, twist it to prise the shell open to expose all the juicy and tender vulnerability, all for his enjoyment. And how he longed to have a taste. The thought alone was enough to make him salivate. 

"So earn it." He commanded.

Just like that, Yuzuru scrambled to his feet. His cloak was unfastened. Beneath it was a long gown made of black silk and overlaid with a layer of sheer black sateen. It was simple and elegant. There was not much decoration, except for a wide belt that held the entire gown in place at his waist. It was dark as midnight and full of red embroideries made up of intricate lines. Some sort of flower petals, perhaps. Not that he paid them much mind. He was busy taking in the long lanky form of Yuzuru, so young, and beautiful.

Upon his gesture to continue, Yuzuru untied the belt. 

Akihisa was amused to see how well-practised that particularly motion had become for that child, all that shyness and hesitation completely gone. The Second Prince had indeed kept him busy in bed.

With the belt fallen to the floor, the entire gown just fell apart, exposing a beautiful body that was beseeched to be fondled and used. His porcelain-like skin glistened, so smooth and supple, begging to be marked. His surreally tiny waist looked to be the perfect size to be enclosed between the older man's hands when he fucked into that delectable ass. And that ass! It was so round and perky, just waiting to be ruined. This was a body clearly well loved and fondled. That little plant had indeed bloomed, its petals luscious and vibrant, so well nurtured by the Second Prince' lust and desire. 

Akihisa didn't hesitate in taking his enjoyment. Yuzuru's mouth was hot and wet, taking him to his private heaven. His tongue was incredibly talented as he teased the older man's balls and the underside of his erection, and his throat incredibly tight around the head of his cock. Akihisa anchored that head between his thighs with a brutal force so he could thrust into that tightness with wild abandonment. The younger man, with no way to escape from that viciousness, choked and spluttered helplessly, which only gave the man more pleasure. The gratification resulted from the constriction of that tender throat was just mind-blowing. The Second Prince had certainly trained his whore well.

Akihisa decided not to come between those luscious lips, which was moistened by saliva and precum. As much as he wanted to, he simply wasn't as young as he used to be so another round tonight was highly unlikely. Instead, he pulled Yuzuru's mouth off his cock, so he could make use of that gorgeous ass as well. And it was not a decision he came to regret. 

His fingers squeezed those globes of flesh hard as he buried himself inside that boy. The passage was dry due to lack of lubrication, but he could care less. Yuzuru groaned in pain as he sobbed, but his well-trained body accommodated the erection shortly, so used to brutality by now. Akihisa growled, the tightness around his cock was so delicious, to the point of being painful. But he relished on the feeling, taking delight in the fantasy of debauch a virgin. 

The older man had come to like Yuzuru's pain-filled whines and cries as that boy trembled beneath him, so he shoved two of his fingers inside, and thrusting them along side his erection. And he was awarded more of those beautiful screams, as he laughed. 

After he was finally satiated, the boy was a mess of bruises and sweat, with cum and blood dripping out his hole staining the tatami beneath them. Still, Yuzuru, who was still breathless with exertion and pain scrambling back to his feet and begged, "Nagashima-sama, my mother and my child..."

Akihisa's laughter stopped those words of desperation mid-track, "Do you even know anything about that woman? She's hardly an angel as you made her out to be."

Words died in Yuzuru's throat. He looked up at the older man, eyes wide and confused.

"Let me tell you a story, child," Akihisa continued, as a dark smile slowly forming on his face, "On the third day after Saya Hanyu's funeral, she went to see your father. There was nothing unusual about that, of course. Only that his body was discovered hanging from a beam in his room a few hours later. I wonder what exactly she had said to him that was enough to drive him to suicide."

At that moment, his own vision darkened briefly. Before he could become alarmed, he found himself once again looking at the naked form of Yuzuru, only by now, it was trembling for a very different reason. Blaming it on his exhaustion, that moment was quickly overlooked as a dark satisfaction filled his head.

"Now tell me, would you still want to risk everything - Prince Fernández's favour, our Empress's wrath for someone like her."

Yuzuru was pale as a ghost, eyes so wide and lost, and yet he was so beautifully stubborn. After a few moments of silence, he stammered persistently, "I ask for your mercy, Nagashima-sama!"

Akihisa laughed. How he enjoyed all that display of vulnerability, all for him to feasted upon, "I can certainly be persuaded, child, but only after you prove yourself to me." His mind had already started to conjure up various plans and scenarios that could aid his goals with Yuzuru's help, not to mention the delectable body that was his now to enjoy. But of course, Yumi Hanyu was to be his leverage, and there was no way he would ever consider to let her go. Not that boy needed to know. Not until he squeezed all the use out of him.

As if sensing his thought, the boy pressed his forehead against the floor and once again begged, "Help me, and I'll do anything for you!"

His desperate pleading only met with Akihisa's incessant chuckles. That stupid child who thought he would have any sway over him-

The older man's laughter died in his throat, as his entire vision flickered. 

Moments later, he was disoriented and shocked to find himself still seating on his chair, holding onto his teacup. Its porcelain body was still hot to touch, like no passage of time had passed. And there was Yuzuru, who stood at the far corner of the room, fully clothed and no strand of hair out of place. It was almost like what happened was nothing but a dream that his mind conjured up, if not for that ring of icy whiteness around Yuzuru's iris in his eyes, like the ancient ice that had formed since the day the God of East was conceived into this world.

"What- what did you do to me?!" Ahikisa shrieked. Despite his outward anger, fear had crept into his voice. 

"Just a little bargaining," Yuzuru said, smiling serenely. 

Akihisa looked at him like he had never seen him before. This was not the boy he recognised. They were the same delicate face, dark eyes and sensual lips, but there was something very different about him. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, surely and confident; or the way he looked him, like an insect that was running around his shoes, to be crashed by in a moment of a whim. Cold sweat poured out every single one of his pores, soaking his expensive gown. 

"Who are you..."

Yuzuru smiled and ignored the question. After all, he controlled the conversation now. 

"What do you want?!"

"Like I said, the safety of my mother, Akiko and my child. Then we will see what else later."

"What makes you think you can command me, boy!"

Yuzuru chuckled. With a wave of his hand, Akihisa doubled over. His entire vision was a swamp of darkness, as an icy coldness permeated into his skin, then to his bones via layers of muscles and fatty tissues. Then pain overpowered him. He screamed, with veins bursting on his neck and his forehead, yet not a sound was produced. It was like an invisible hand closing onto his throat. All he knew was pain, endless pain like surges of tidal waves, each stronger than last. He had tried to beg, hands reaching and grasping, hoping to get hold of Yuzuru. But he was so weak, and his arms could only extend so far. Finally giving in into the pain, he rolled over. It was like his entire body was sunk into a freezing lake. Only the numbness he desperately begged for never came. 

He didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity until it finally subsided. He gasped and was relieved to finally find his voice. But his throat was so raw that it was only capable of producing a few raw gasps. He turned over, feeling the carpet beneath him was hot and wet. The air stunk of the odour of urine. It was then he realised he had wet himself. 

He struggled to lift his body so he could take another look at his assailant. His blurring gaze travelled upward, to the fragile form hidden underneath layers of clothes, and that tiny waist cinched by a black belt decorated with red flowers that he still couldn't make out of.

"You have three days to reconsider my offer." Yuzuru offered. His voice was so serene and yet cold. 

Higanbana**, the older man suddenly realised what these red flowers were. 

That fragile plant he thought he had come to known had long grown, into something deadly and beautiful. Higanbana, the red spider lily, with its bizarrely shaped crimson flowers like violently shed blood rising straight out of the ground, paving the way to hell with their lethal beauty. 

\-------------------------------------

As promised, Duchess Maria Teresa Samaranch had a note sent to Javier's hands in two days. And it only had two words scribbled on it: Achtman Lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> Ro(炉)*: a fire pit built into the floor of tea rooms and used in the cold season in Japan. It is used for heating the hot water kettle (kama) to make the tea. The frame that fits around it at the top is called robuchi(炉縁) and usually is made of lacquered wood. In the season when the ro is not in use, the frame is removed, and the ro is covered with one of the tatami mats that form the surface of the floor so it is not visible.
> 
> Higanbana(彼岸花)**: also known as the red spider lily, hell flower, red magic lily, or equinox flower. It flowers in the late summer or autumn, often in response to heavy rainfall. In Japanese culture, it's a flower that is mostly associated with death. It is planted around graves as a tribute to the dead. The bulbs are poisonous and are supposed to keep wild animals from feasting on the corpses. And since these scarlet flowers usually bloom near cemeteries around the autumnal equinox, they are described in Chinese and Japanese translations of the Lotus Sutra as ominous flowers that grow in hell and guide the dead into the next reincarnation.
> 
> Author's note:
> 
> I have a feeling that this chapter has scared a lot of people away 😅😅😅  
Just to clarify, in case there is any confusion: Akihisa and yuzuru didn't engage in sex. It was just an illusion built for Akihisa.


	26. Chapter 26

Akihisa barely made it through to the second day before he begged for an audience with Yuzuru. And Yuzuru was more than happy to let him stew for another day before making his appearance back in the Nagashima household. A lesson had to leave a lasting impression after all.

The older man was a shell of his formal self by then. The reoccurring pain had driven him to opium-based pain potions. He had long overdosed these potentially lethal medications, only being kept alive by taking a slew of others potions to counteract some of its toxicities. His eyes ghastly dull, like the eyeballs of a long-dead fish lying on the beach. His body was on the verge of collapsing, there was only so much more his livers, kidneys and heart could take. 

He could barely get out of his bed even in the moments that he wasn't in agony, his body had become too weak. What truly broke him was the diagnosis he received from every leading healer he could get his hands onto - one after another, they all announced him to be free from any form of illness or poisoning no matter how tests had been performed. And as far as all curse breakers he hired could tell he was free from any spell or curse, ancient or otherwise.

Upon seeing Yuzuru, the older man scrambled out of bed. One of this feet got caught up on his blanket, stripping him over before he could find his footing on the floor. He couldn't care less, as he crawled to get closer to Yuzuru, and begged with a throat that had long gone coarse with all that screaming, "I agree! Please Hanyu-sama! I agree!"

Yuzuru was rather amused, "What have you agreed to?"

"Anything! Anything! I swear!" The older man pleaded desperately. Whatever else he had intended to say was cut short as another round of pain hit him, leaving him groaning on the floor. He was so exhausted that he barely had the energy left to scream.

The younger man wasn't in particular hurry either, this time. He poured himself a finger of fine whiskey and perused through a few of the books that lined the bookshelf on the far end of the room, and wait.

Eventually, the groaning stopped, leaving that limp body to twitch from time to time with each laboured breathing. 

Yuzuru kneeled by his side, his lips curled into a smirk, which was mirrored by Axel inside of him. His fingers gently stroked Akihisa's tear-streaked face like he was patting his newest pet, "Get to work then."

And Akihisa stumbled to his feet, as he was commanded.

\---------------------------------

Upon returning to the Fernandez House, the first thing Yuzuru did was to seek out Javier. He found him inside his private study, reading through a scroll that he was holding in his hands. 

The Japanese barely had enough patience to knock on the door, before he made his way onto the Prince's lap, his lips eagerly seeking out his. 

There was a fire burning inside him, all-consuming. The feeling of power to hold another person's life in hands was so intoxicating. Just like this, fear was eradicated, like wilted grasses under the summer fire, gone without any trace. 

With each moment passing by, he felt Axel's presence getting stronger. The punishment for giving in to that being inside of him, he supposed. Tracey had long cautioned him, and still, he knowingly ignored her warnings. He was at peace with his decision though. It was his duty to protect those who relied on him for their safety.

All he knew was his urge to give himself to Javier when he was still mostly himself. It was almost like proof that he still existed. Axel laughed at him mockingly, which he chose to ignore in favour of all the emotions that roller coasted inside of him.

Such as love.

For the first time, it was dawned on him that he was in love with Javier, in whatever capacity that his broken soul and damaged heart were capable of. And he wanted the Prince to have whatever there was still to have of him.

Javier stiffed against him initially. His mouth closed shut and passive. Undeterred, Yuzuru grounded his hips down hard, his thighs squeezing tightly as he sweet tongue licked those unrelenting lips, asking for entrance. 

"Come on... Javi... fuck me!" He whined needily and desperately, so consumed by the need to be owned, loved, and validated, "The bedroom..."

Instead, he was thrown onto the desk. Piles of scrolls were swiped off to the floor to make room for both of them. Yuzuru's back landed on the hard surface with a thud, he winced as his waist dug into the sharp edge of the desk. Before he was able to adjust himself to a more comfortable position, Javier descended upon him, his mass keeping the Japanese exactly where he was.

"Let's go to the bedroom, Javi..." Yuzuru smiled, so charmed by his eagerness. He liked to know that he wasn't the only one being so affected.

It was then he noticed those warm chocolate coloured eyes had turned dark and fathomless. His smile faltered, as confusion filled his heart. 

But then Javier kissed him the exact same way he did every night. His skilful tongue delved into his mouth, coaxing him into responding, so hungry and passionate as if he wanted nothing more than to become one with Yuzuru. So the Japanese put all those doubt behind him. His own hands slipped underneath the hem of the older man's shirt, making their on to those naked skin and hardened muscle. All he wanted was to feel Javier beneath his own fingers. The hunger that like nothing he had ever experienced, so unrelenting and insatiable. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Javier quickly ripped the clothes off Yuzuru. These fragile pieces fell apart in mere seconds as they stood no chance against those strong hands that were used to wield swords. 

Yuzuru moaned appreciatively, he couldn't wait for Javier to touch him. He longed for those hands, those calloused fingers to caress him lovingly like he was precious and beautiful. Instead, the Prince lowered his own pants and underwear, releasing his erection. With nothing but some spits wiped onto his penis, he spread Yuzuru's legs wide and sunk into him.

Eyes wide in shock, Yuzuru immediately tensed up. His mind went completely blank, even the pain failed to register. Not at first, at least. And when it finally did, he groaned.

"Javi..." 

After taking one look of the Prince though, he had gone quite. He barely recognised the man that was on top him. He felt the warmth of his body against him, the loud breathing next to his ears, but the man so cold and distant. 

Confused and hurt, he tried again, "Javi... what..." 

But then those lips descended upon him, sucking onto his neck, leaving behind bruises. They were hot and eager, and so familiar that Yuzuru ultimately relaxed against his lover. He spread his thighs further apart, giving the older man more room to maneuver. His legs crossed behind Javier's back, feeling each of the back muscles expanding and contracting as he pounded into him.

As if rewarding his compliance, Javier shifted the angle of his thrusts. And it made a world of difference. Yuzuru moaned in appreciation, quickly being overtaken by the unfamiliar sensation of his prostate being stimulated. Sparks danced behind his closed eyes, so bright like the summer sunlight.

His entire body trembled as he arched his back, greedy for more. His ass lustful rolled, impaling himself on that erection. And he was desperate for more. 

"Touch me Javi... I want you so much..." He whined. His own erection was evident and wet with precum. 

Something shifted in those brown eyes, as Javier finally took hold of Yuzuru's cock, stroking it to the same rhythm as he took his pleasure in Yuzuru's body. It didn't take long for the Japanese to reach his orgasm, his entire body tensing up as if an electric current had passed through every one of his nerve endings. He barely felt it when Javier cummed inside of him. Only the body collapsed on top of him after a loud growl was an indication that the Prince had come too. 

He smiled at Javier, the man who had given him so much happiness. His heart was overflowed with all that love that he felt for this man. And at that moment, he wanted nothing more than for the Prince to have a taste of that happiness too because it was so sweet and beautiful. 

So he reached out with his hands, wanting to pull that man closer to share a kiss, a kiss that was filled with all the emotions that he could never put in words. Instead, the Prince pulled away, as if being burnt. 

Yuzuru watched in stunned silence, as Javier pulled out of him. The Prince quickly tucked his spent cock back into his pants, and left the study, leaving the door opened behind. And there was Yuzuru, completely naked and filthy on a desk with his legs wide open, like a used whore for all those passing by to see.


	27. Chapter 27

From that day onward, something had changed. Yuzuru felt it so acutely. 

He was still treated well within the fences that lined the Fernandez House - the fine clothes, delicious meals, servants and maids who took care of his every need were still all there like nothing had happened. And yet he knew it was all different now. 

His master had been different, the distance and coldness were evident for all to see, and all the household staff gossiped behind their backs, a further confirmation that he wasn't misreading the situation.

Furthermore, the Prince was rarely at home to share meals, let along spending time with him. And even those instances that he was at home, the atmosphere was stiff and cold. Yuzuru was shocked to realise that they had so little to say to each other now. He had tried to break the ice, but every attempt he made was met was dead silence and coldness.

It only improved slightly on the nights that Duchess Maria Teresa Samaranch came by for dinner. Yuzuru was mostly being ignored on the table, as he picked through his meal without much appetite. But that least there wasn't that deadly silence that was driving him upon the wall. Maria had tried to get him involved in various conversations with a gentle smile, for which he was so thankful. Not that it didn't help much. 

In moments like these, his hands enclosed on the sakura diamond pendant he wore like a drowning man holding onto a straw. His wounded heart took comfort in those happy memories that all seemed so distant now. Sometimes, he wondered if it had all being a dream. A dream that he conjured up because his weak self couldn't bear to deal with a harsh reality. 

Javier still came to his bed from time to time. To make use of what was his, Yuzuru supposed. He was conveniently there after all. So the Japanese spread his legs, a duty he knew he was bound to. The Prince was much gentler now, their coupling sleeked with fragrant oil, now the aggression that he didn't understand was spent. 

The older man was a skilled lover when he wanted to be, expertly taking him over peaks of orgasms time and time again. There was almost desperation in the thrust of that hips, the mouth that sucked on his pink nipples, and the hands that caressed him. But as soon as he was done, he would leave the room, leaving the Japanese lying on his own bed, covered in sweat and cum, as he listened to Axel laughed at his naivety. 

In one of those nights, he simply had enough. So he grabbed hold of Javier's hand, as he was about to leave. He didn't say a word, only his eyes were wide and pleading. And yet the Prince seemed to have understood what he was asking. These emotionless eyes had gone soft, and Yuzuru felt a burst of intense happiness inside of him. 

At that night, they laid against each other as they used to. His back pressed against Javier's chest, with the older man's breathed soothingly against his ears, and those strong arms around his waist like they used to. Yuzuru soon drifted off to sleep, overtaken by exhaustion and relief.

In those hours, he vaguely felt a hand gently brushing away his hair, and caressing his face so gently and lovingly. So he turned around and snuggled closer, greedy for more of these gentle gestures. 

He woke up to an empty spot beside him. It still bore the indent of Javier's weight, but it had long gone cold. Just like his heart that had too. 

In the end, it was Maria who cleared up the confusion for him.

"Javier will be engaged shortly. A bride has been chosen for him." She said as she took a sip of her wine, her ruby ring on his finger glinting, "Princess Miki Ando from Japan."

Yuzuru's mind just went completely blank. He had no trouble understanding each word, but when they were stringed together they were like a foreign language that his brain simply couldn't process.

"Yuzuru, listen to me, it's going to be OK." Seeing how pale he had gone, Maria took hold off his icy hands and squeezed them soothingly, "You can still be by Javier's side. Nothing has to change. And you will still have his support and affection, a life of happiness guaranteed."

He looked her as these lips opened, closed then opened. The endless motions that supposed to form words and yet he could barely hear a word beyond Axel's loud laughter, once again mocking him of his stupidity. 

Now he understood why Javier never brought up the word "marriage" between them. It wasn't meant for someone like him, a toy who was only good enough to be played with then cast aside.

Johnny had lied. Sex didn't hold power. Not really. Not when that power was given from the beginning. Even though Javier allowed him to dictate their relationship, it was a privilege that the Prince decided to grant, not something that Yuzuru owned. Now Javier had gotten everything that he could have possibly wanted out of him, and his interest had evidently dwined. Master's love lasted only as long as their lust, dispersing on the first moment of insipidness.

His fingers grasping tightly around the sakura diamond pendant that hung from his neck. Its many sharp facades dug into his palm. But He felt no pain, only the coldness of stone.

Not that he would blame the Prince. How was he, a mere fuck toy, going to compete with a wife that came with an undoubtedly substantial dowry and political capital, and possibly a throne that the Prince had set his eyes on for so long.

\-----------------------------------------------

Akihisa set to work as Yuzuru had commented. He had ushered Akiko from the house at Achtman Lane. It would be relatively easy to make her disappear in Canada - a cargo ship sailing off to the USA, and a woman to be registered as a part of the crew under a false name. And upon her arrival, his contacts would be ready to take her to New York. Money, accommodation and a new identification would be all ready by then. The challenge was Yumi Hanyu, who was currently under his Empress' control. But he knew it was within his capacity. He just needed a bit more time to plan.

Like many men, he was very well motivated by fear. It was hard not be, not when his memory of those nights and the days under Yuzuru's spells were still fresh in his mind. After all, it was so much harder to be brave and prideful when he still felt an occasional twinge of pain on the tip of his fingers and feet, a reminder of the grave consequences that he would face should he fail his missions.

He had never contemplated the possibilities that Yuzuru could be magical, a pitfall that he was now paying for. The younger man had passed every test that he was put under for many years as their Empress commanded. 

The possibility had been remote, after all. Saya Hanyu was the first one with magical traits in the last 50 years in Japan. Even in other realms, the percentage of the magical population ran low, usually about 15%. And that number tended to be even lower in the Eastern Realms compared to the Western ones for reasons that no one could comprehend. 

And most people with magical traits had very little magic in them, barely enough to warm a cup of water, or lift a book across a table, or lit a candle before overtaken by exhaustion. True mages were rare in any realm. Most of these people tended to specialise in one or two kinds of magic, such as fire, wind, water or healing etc., channelling their power through various mediums to give them a boost. And Yuzuru's power was unlike anything he had ever seen or heard. He masterfully crafted illusion that was pretty much flawless, and the spell he used to torture was utterly undetectable. 

Akihisa prided himself of being a smart man. He had to be, to get to where he was today without being born into a family with substantial political influence. But he knew he had reached a glass ceiling, even with all the resources he had acquired over the years. This was a failure that he was forced to swallow unwillingly. But now, he sensed an opportunity. Amidst his overwhelming sense of defeat and humiliation, he saw a different path he could potentially follow - a different master to pledge his loyalty to. 

He smiled, feeling very prideful of his own wit. The Hanyu name still aroused supporters even today, generations after their defeat to the Hashimoto family. And with Yuzuru's magic, he definitely had a decent chance in turning the table on their Empress. With some luck and careful planning, Akihisa, the first man to pledge himself to the new Emperor could become a vital part of the new court. Even the next Prime Minister wasn't going to be a wild dream anymore!

So filled by his wild ambitions and glee, he never saw the sword that came for his chest. A precise stab to his heart, he barely knew what he was happening before his body hit the floor. 

Akiko barely had a chance to let out a scream before the back of her neck was hit. A blow so hard that it took her out immediately. 

Tatsuro Matsumura withdrew his magical sword from the chest of his victim. Its blade glowed eerily for a split second as it absorbed all the blood that ran down its body before it went dull, like a standard weapon. It happened so fast that no one took notice.

The Japanese sheathed his sword, before dragging Akiko's fallen form and deposited her at the feet of a cloaked figure, who was dressed in all black save for a giant ruby ring that adorned on that right hand, "A celebratory gift for the new alliances that we are about to form."

To that, the woman replied, "May our alliance be strong and long-lasting." 

Then her servants came forward to collect their mistress' new trophy before disappearing into one of the many of the shadows that were cast onto the street.


	28. Chapter 28

In those days, Axel had become an inseparable part of himself. It had ingrained itself into his soul, like an epiphyte plant. Perhaps a Thurber's Stemsucker, a parasitic woody shrubs that lived almost entirely within the stems of its host plant and obtained all nutrients from it in order to sustain its own life. Completely invisible as it grew within its host, until it bloomed, sending tiny brown or maroon shades of flowers through the surface of its host. By now they were virtually inseparable.

Part of him was devastated still by what was happening between him and the Prince. Having his heart broken so soon after he finally understood his own feelings was a blow that overwhelmed him. There had been moments when he desperately held onto his tears, as the Prince made use of his mouth, his bulbous head bruising the back of his throat. His jaw was sore and tender from the relentless sucking as his nose buried in the other man's pubic hair, desperately wanting to get the Prince hard enough to fuck him. And when the older man did, flipping him over to his stomach and taking him in hard thrusts, he finally let his tears fell, soaking the pillow beneath his face.

He didn't want the other man to see his tears, now knowing his vulnerability no longer influenced him in any way. He knew the Prince would cast him aside one day, but he wanted to delay the inevitable. Instead, he plastered on one smile after another, either obediently or seductively. He rolled his hips on top of the older man enthusiastically, lips forming a string of lewd moans, just like Ryuichi had shown him all those years ago. His ass constricted rhythmically, coaxing his partner to fuck him faster, earning a few hard slaps on his fleshy globes as cum hit his inner passage after the last few ruthless thrusts. He felt little to no pleasure, but it hardly mattered. He lifted his ass, feeling the spent cock being dislodged with a pop. He turned around before wrapping his mouth once again around the other man's cock, gently licking and sucking it, until it was hard enough to fuck him again. He kept his thighs wide apart, his ass cheeks spread. From that angle, he knew the older man had an unhindered view of his well-used hole, red and raw from their fucking, wet from the lubricant and cum that was slowly leaking out. The Prince would groan in appreciation as he pushed in 3 fingers, just to see those thighs quivering. 

Yuzuru had no pride or shyness any more. In those moments, all he could think of was Javier, and how his body was so close and warm beneath his hands. It was so unlike his distant and coldness outside of the bedroom. For that, he was willing to do anything to keep the Prince on his bed for a bit longer, a dream that he didn't want to wake from. Eventually, the Prince's lust would be satiated, leaving him curling into himself on his cold bed. But at least it would still smell like him. And if Yuzuru shut his eyes, and willed his brain to believe, it was almost enough to create a fantasy that Javier was still there, beside him. 

However, the other part of him watched on with utter detachment. Unaffected by his inner turmoils and heartbreak, He took in everything that was happening around him and analysed the situation clinically. He knew he had no much time left until the Prince finally withdrew his protection and support that he had bestowed on him. And everything he was ever given could be taken on a moment of notice. There was no way he would allow that to happen. So he collected all the jewellery that he had been given, payments for his service he supposed. Then he had them quietly sold in various black markets in small quantities, cautious of being discovered. He had also withdrawn all the coins that had been deposited into his account as his monthly stipends, stashed them away to access later.

He was fed up being someone else's pawn in the games that he had no say. He had seen enough of what would happen to people like him, once their masters and mistresses grew tired of them during his time serving the Princes. Once lust died down, so did any sentiment, if there were any to begin with. 

So in the darkness of those nights, after Javier had left him used and sullied, he contemplated his next steps, a new chapter in his life. He had options, countries that he could seek passage to, men who could be persuaded to help him to disappear in exchange of money, or a few sexual favours if needed to be. He didn't want to utilise Akihisa for this purpose. If his treachery and Akihisa's new allegiance to him was discovered, it could compromise the safety of his mother and Akiko, which was the last thing he wanted. It was always better to play on the safe side.

However, all his planning was derailed by a letter sent by one of Shoma's personal servants. On the crumpled paper, there was a brief message written in blood. Messy and barely legible as if it was written in distress, he still recognised his friend's handwriting. In it, Shoma asked him to pay a ransom personally to his abductor in exchange for his safety and keeping it as a secret. Yuzuru was initially surprised that such request came to him. After all, these abductors could get so much more from the Japanese delegation, which had vastly more financial resources. But on the second thought, it actually made sense. A few small-time criminals must have been greedy, but not greedy enough to risk the wrath of the Japanese government. They were most likely willing to comprise on the payout to get it quickly and make themselves disappeared from the country. And Yuzuru, being a nobody but with some money who happened cared for Shoma was a much easier target. 

Easily moved by the servant's beggings and tears, Yuzuru agreed readily. He had the money ready after all. So amidst the darkness of the night, he sneaked out of the Fernández House through the back door, careful to ensure he wasn't seen by anyone. With a hood lowered over his head, he walked on foot for about 10 minutes before he was picked up by an inconspicuous carriage. He had no idea where they were going because as soon as he stepped inside, a black bag was placed on his head, obscuring his entire vision. Then his hands were bounded by a rope. He didn't even realise there was another person inside the carriage until it was too late. He instinctively struggled, but he was held down.

"Stop it! I'm taking you to your friend!" An unfamiliar voice growled. 

So he ceased his struggles, even though unease started to grow stronger once one of his senses were taken away. 

It was a long ride. He was ushered out of the carriage once they arrived. He was guided by not so gentle hands that pushed and shoved him as they walked. Through the soles, he felt pebble stones beneath his feet.

Then his feet stepped onto a plush carpet, indicating that he was now inside, most likely a house. Then he was pushed forward. The momentum caused him to lose his balance, as his knees scraped on the floor. 

Then the bag on his head was lifted. To his relief, there was Shoma right before his eyes, kneeling by his side. Yuzuru reached out for him, as much as his bounded hands allowed him to, and tried his best to checking him over for any signs of injury or look of pain. He sighed in relief when he spotted none.

To his great surprise, Shoma started to berate the man who took Yuzuru inside on his rough treatment, while all "abductors" kneeled and bowed in the face of his fury.

Yuzuru was confused. Although one thing was clear as hell, this was anything but an abduction, "Sho-kun, what is going on?" He asked.

Guilt flickered on that innocent face before it was replaced by a bright and enthusiastic smile, "Yuzu-kun! I'm helping you to escape like you have been planning to!"

Yuzuru was shocked. He had been so careful. Apparently not careful enough. 

"This is such a terrible idea!" Yuzuru was exasperated. There was a reason why he never considered using the young prince as a tool in his plan. It could have been so easy. Shoma, who clearly saw him as a friend, could be persuaded with little to no afford. But he didn't want to imagine the fallout should they be discovered. Shoma was too young to understand the implication it could be for him, and for their country. He didn't want his friend to live a life of regrets and shame for a stupid mistake he made in his childhood, "Remember who you are! What if our Empress find out about this? What if Canada took it as an act of hostility from our country?"

"I don't care, Yuzu-kun," Shoma exclaimed, his eyes large and bright, already filled hope for a future that only he could see, "Because I'm coming with you! I don't care where! Anywhere you want to go, just take me with you!"

Shoma took hold of his bounded hands, caressing them with so much gentleness and affection. He looked at him as he was looking at the most precious thing in his life. The one who was worthy of sacrificing everything for. It was when Yuzuru noticed how Shoma was looking at him, so eagerly, passionately, and full of emotions. Emotions that had nothing to do with friendship. Comprehension filled his head. He looked at his young friend and was stunned into silence.

"I love you," and if Yuzuru had any doubt left, it was fully distinguished by these words, "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Yuzuru looked around, futilely hoping someone, anyone in the room was able to talk some senses into the young Prince. This is how he realised exactly where he was - the living room inside the house that was gifted to him in Achtman Lane.

Alarm bells sounded off in his head immediately. No one, other than Akihisa, Akiko and himself knew about the existence of this house. Something was definitely not right here. "Sho-kun, let's get out of here, and then we can talk."

Mistaking it as consent to his suggestion, Shoma eagerly agreed as he loosed the rope on Yuzuru's wrists.

They barely made through the living room, before their exit was blocked by a group of warriors, each of them dressed in black with their features hidden.


	29. Chapter 29

Yuzuru quickly turned around, dragging Shoma with him, hoping to get back into the living room and barricade themselves behind a closed door. But it was far too late. Shoma's people had turned against them, their swords raised intimidating high. Both of their eyes widened, as they looked at each other. Now they saw it as precisely as what it was - a trap from the beginning.

Axel growled inside of Yuzuru. The rims of his iris turned icy white for a brief second. It was gone before anyone could notice. Magic gathered on his fingertips, ready to be commanded.

"I would suggest both of you surrender," The guards in black parted, making way for a man dressed in a black cloak to pass through.

Yuzuru recognised that man. Tatsuro Matsumura, Japan's Minister of Foreign Affairs. He had seen him in some of the social gatherings that he attended from time to time. He just couldn't fathom why he was here.

In that moment of distraction, one of Shoma's men had placed his sword next to Shoma's neck. The magic-infused blade was still a centimetre away from the fragile skin and arteries, but it was already enough for the surface beneath it to break, forming a thin red line as a tiny trail of blood seeped through.

Yuzuru was very surprised. Surely the Minister wasn't daring enough to harm their Empress' beloved son, was he? 

As if sensing his unease, the older man smiled, "Of course, I would prefer not to harm our Prince. But if an accident was to happen, I'm sure our Empress would be kind enough to find it within herself to forgive us."

His tone was very casual, like stating the weather. There was not a flicker of fear or doubt. Yuzuru's heart sank. Shoma had gotten both of them into a mess that he could barely make sense of, let along finding a way out.

As if affirming these words, the man who had his sword held against Shoma dragged it across his neck. That thin red wound burst open. Blood gushed out as one of the major arteries were opened. There was so much blood, painting everything around them in crimson. Shoma's body quickly went limp. His own hands futilely pressed against the opened wound, and yet blood still squirted through his fingers, like a broken dam.

Yuzuru knew he had to do something, something fast. At this rate, his friend only had a minute or so before he bled out.

"Help him! And I'll do anything you want." He turned to Tatsuro, overwhelmed and desperate. 

A thin metal ring was thrown onto the floor before him, "Wear this around your neck."

Yuzuru didn't hesitate. There was no time for that. He didn't even ask what it was. He snatched it off the floor and immediately put it around his neck as demanded. It automatically locked shut. 

Almost immediately, Axel went quiet, like it never existed. The magic that coursed through his vein dried up. Then it hit him. It was another form of Seal of Diabolus, the magic seal that been seared onto Johnny's chest. It worked as magical castration - a tool that shut down all magic coursing through a person, affectively rendering them non-magical.

In the face of the worst possible scenario, Yuzuru had calmed down, knowing his panic wouldn't help the situation at all. For whatever purpose he served there, he doubted he was going to walk out of this house alive as confirmed by the fact that Tatsuro wasn't afraid to let him see his face. The realisation had surprisingly given him a calmness that even he didn't expect.

"I've done what you asked. Now save your Prince!" He demanded. 

Tatsuro smiled, almost as if admiring his composure. With a wave of his hands, one of his men administered a healing potion. Within seconds the bleeding stopped. Shoma's limp form twitched a few times, as he groaned in pain weakly. Yuzuru signed with relief, knowing he was going to be okay. Then all the guards left, taking the young Prince with them, leaving their master along with Yuzuru.

"What do you intend to do with me?" Yuzuru asked.

"Not much. Don't worry, it would be over soon."

Almost immediately, the thin collar around Yuzuru's neck started to tighten, cutting off his air supply. His survival instincts kicked. He vainly tried to insert his fingers between the gap of his neck and the collar. But it didn't help. Before long, he collapsed onto the floor, body twitching. His mouth was wide open as he attempted to force oxygen into his throat, as he futilely clawed at his own neck. Then blackness filled his vision, 

Tatsuro watched on until all the twitching eventually came to a halt. Then he nodded in satisfaction. 

"The gift for the Crown Prince is ready," He announced to the seemly empty room. 

And of course, it wasn't really empty. Upon hearing these words, Ryuichi Kihara walked through the door, carrying the limp form of Akiko. 

Tatsuro was surprised to see him being the one making an appearance. But then again, that boy was known for his wit and ambition, "Looks like you have found yourself yet another master."

Ryuichi put down Akiko on a nearby chair, before he bowed to one of his old masters, "My loyalty is always for sale, and His Royal Highness was very more than happy to pay the price."

"And what was it, this time?"

"My sisters, Riku Miura's happiness. A life without suffering or in want of anything." He answered, his smile serene and pleased.

Tatsuro chuckled. A high price indeed, considering that boy sold his body for a few measly copper coins not so long ago. There were only so far for people with low upbringings could go. Even ambitious and resourceful ones like Akihisa had their limits. Their ambitions were always low, and their loyalties easily swayed. 

"I don't care what the Prince does with him, as long as he's dead as per our agreement, do you understand?"

Ryuichi bowed once again. Seemingly satisfied, Tatsuro left the room. 

It wasn't until Tatsuro's footsteps were gone entirely that Ryuichi straightened his back. Then he made his way to Yuzuru's limp form and crouched down.

It had been so long since he was in the same room as the younger man. And his face was enough to bring back all the memories that he had been trying to suppress for so long. Those dark hours inside that dungeon, his soul being twisted and darkened right while those innocent eyes looked upon his suffering. Hatred filled his heart. There he was, being ruined and rebuilt into a being that he could barely recognise himself. And yet there Yuzuru was, innocent, beautiful and whole.

How he had hated him from that moment onward. And that hatred only grew as each day went by, as his body and mind endured more and more. Then his broken soul had fallen in love with the one man who had come to care for him. But that attention was quickly snatched away, by Yuzuru of all people, leaving him in another hellhole. 

And now here he was, looking at Yuzuru. The same beautiful face and flawless skin, and suddenly his anger had dissipated. 

"I'm sorry for what is about to happen to you, but it is no other this way." He murmured apologetically.

After all, all that hatred, anger and hunger for vengeance were what had kept him alive for so long. For that, he was thankful for the boy.

\---------------------------------

Around 2am in the morning, a fire broke out in a house at the Achtman Lane, rousing all the residents from their deep slumber. They ran to the street, screaming for help in their nightgowns, holding their babies and children. The firefighters arrived on the scene soon enough, but there was nothing they would do. A magical accelerant had been used, making it incredibly difficult to extinguish the flames. They did their best to contain the fire, so it didn't spread throughout the neighbourhood. 

The fire finally ceased at the break of dawn, when there wasn't much left to consume. The investigators sifted through the debris and found two charred bodies. Both of them were burnt beyond recognition. The medical examiners concluded they were one male and one female in their late teens and mid to late twenties. With all their belongs burnt in the fire, other than a large bag of gold coins that were still mostly intact, it was almost impossible to identify the remains, except for a sakura diamond necklace that had been secured around the man's neck. 

The End

Of Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for staying around until the end. Every kudo and every comment are treasured. You have encouraged me to keep on writing. Love you all. Please stay safe and healthy. I'll see you in Part Two of this story.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to the The Realm and The Throne Part II. Thank you so much for your support. I'm amazed that this fic has accumulated over 420 comments and 220 kudos. And I'm overjoyed and extremely appreciative. I hope you will continue to support the story as it progresses. 
> 
> Take care of yourselves and stay healthy.

Oda Nobunari * paced. If he tried any harder the carpet beneath his feet would surely be worn to shreds soon. For once, his easy-going demeanour had fallen, with his eyebrows pulled into a tight frown. And yet, his state of anxiety seemly did nothing to Nanami Abe, as she calmly continued her writing on a scroll behind her desk.

"This is our last chance to do something," Eventually he was fed up with her nonchalant attitude. With his hands banging on to the table, he practically growled, "The ship sails in half an hour!"

That successfully got her attention at least, as she calmly put aside the scroll that was now stained by a tipped over inkbottle as result of his momentary anger, and grabbed a fresh one, "I know."

"And yet you are letting it happen!"

Knowing she wasn't going to get any more work done until she made a convincing argument, she finally replied, "What path that child will be on is not for us to decide or interfere, so let it be."

"But we have waited for so long! Surely-"

"You'd do well to remember what happened to Tsuzuki**-sensei***!" She sternly cut him off, "A soft heart brings downfalls."

"It was hardly that boy's fault! He was barely six!" Oda protested, yet most of the steam had left him, as the memory of their beloved teacher being sawed alive until he took his last breath amongst a pool of his own blood resurfaced. 

"Like we must prove our loyalty to our course, the boy must prove his worthiness. His fate lies in the hand of God of East now, and we must do nothing but wait." Seeing the pain in his eyes, Nanami took pity on him as her voice softened. 

It was enough for the younger man to bow his head and concede. He closed his eyes as he remembered Yuzuru, who was so small at the time that he barely reached his knees. Thin and frail, and so malnourished that his skin was sickly pale with a green tinge. That child looked up at him with his head lifted high, dark eyes so innocent that they sparkled like the shiniest black obsidian stones. The older man, who was only a teenager back then, could literally hear that boy's stomach growl. Yet there he was, offering him an apple that he carefully held between his tiny palms. 

And his heart ached. 

\----------------------------------------

Yuzuru woke up to many things all at once. The overwhelming scent of sea salt, the stuffy air, the loud sound of creaks and churns as the ground beneath him oscillated back and forth. Disoriented, he opened his eyes. His eyes were so unused to light, even the dim glow of the lamps hanging above caused sharp pains in his head. For a long moment, all he could see was vague outlines of silhouettes, going in and out of focus. 

He groaned. His throat was leathery and coarse. And every lungful of air he took in only seemed to aggravate it. He tried to make a sound. It was tiny and almost inhuman as he rough tongue struggled to form words. It was almost like he had lost the ability to speak.

Nonetheless, it was understood. Soon enough, a bowl was shoved right between his lips. Water almost tasted foreign on his dry and cracked lips. He greedily lapped it up, as snickers echoed in the poorly ventilated air. There wasn't much in the bowl, only about three mouthfuls, barely enough to moisten his coarse throat before it was all gone. He instinctively chased after it as the bowl was withdrawn, greedy for every last drop that he might have missed, only to find a hand tightened around his neck, the callus fingers digging to his windpipe with crushing force. He fought to break away, but he was way too weak to manage anything more than a few twitches. 

" The Crown Prince sends his regard," A woman said in the common tongue as she held him in his pace. Her voice cold and heavy with a Russian accent, "And his royal highness wants to remind you that he always keeps his promise."

With that, the hand on his neck was withdrawn. She left without saying another word. Yuzuru had wanted to chase after her. He had so many questions that he desperately needed answers for. And yet he was powerless to do so. He was too occupied with getting air into his lungs, as he coughed and heaved.

Perhaps because of all the racket that he created, the silence around him quickly dissipated as it was soon replaced by soft sobbing and anguished cries. 

"Shut up, will you?" A woman to his right snapped at him. Surprised, Yuzuru chocked on his next breath, and it brought on another bout of coughs. 

She tsked in annoyance. There was bouts of the sound of shuffling, metals colliding against each other. It was then he realised he was chained to her. Both of them were shackled together at their ankles with a chain that was about a meter long to allow them some freedom of movements. 

To his surprise, instead of pushing him away, she helped him to lay back down. Those fingers were not exactly gentle but were enough calm his coughs, leaving him with laboured breathing and occasional wheezing. 

"Thank you," Yuzuru whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, "Where am I?"

"The Wanderer, a slave ship heading to St. Petersburg."

Yuzuru's eyes widened, "How did I end up-"

"If I were you, I wouldn't waste my energy on useless questions." She cut him off ruthlessly before he could utter another word, "Trust me, you gonna need it."

With that, she found herself a relatively comfortable position to lie on, turning her back to him. Yuzuru swallowed. Whatever saliva his body was able to produce quickly dissipated, leaving him as thirsty as ever. 

Just like that, Yuzuru was trapped in this floating wooden cell with many others. In a world that was shielded from the outside, time almost had seemed to have stopped. The few lamps hanging on the ceiling swung with each movement of the boat, creating moving shadows. It was the only reminder of the passage of time that he had. They were dim but just enough to allow him to see some of his surroundings - people who were nothing but shapes covered by thin blankets on the floor, cocoons that were built like illusions that they would be shielded from the outside world. 

Yuzuru had tried to shut his eyes, still very weak and disoriented. Sleep could hardly come though, not when his mind was filled with so many questions. Where was he? What happened to him? Where was Shoma? Was he OK? What about Akiko and his mother? What would happen to him now? 

One thing that was abundantly clear was that he was back in the hands of Patrick Chan, the Crown Prince of Canada. A man with endless resources and held a serious grudge against him.

Shortly after, the weather took a significant downturn. Monstrous waves roared as they pounded onto their ship relentlessly, nearly obliterated all other sounds, including the screaming and crying that filled every corner of their confinement. Yuzuru tried to brace himself for impacts, one after another, but his muscles had frozen in place as fear plagued him. In the hands of nature, they were nothing but little dolls to be tossed and thrown with little regard, so minute and insignificant. Water had no trouble of seeping through the thin pieces of wood surrounding them, as it flooded between their ankles, soaking them thoroughly. In the rare moments that the turbulence quietened down, they remained huddling together, greedy for any little heat they could preserve amongst them. The blankets which were already saturated with water, felt like heavy slabs of ice against those skin that was littered with goosebumps, as they shivered uncontrollably. 

It didn't take long for seasickness to overwhelm Yuzuru. It wasn't his first time travelling on a ship. But this was nothing like his journey from Japan to Canada, a smooth sail that was protected by magic, and thus shielded away from the harsh elements.

His stomach lurched at the sight of those around him who were choking on the vile stews as they forced their way out of their mouths. The pungent stench was so overwhelming, not even the rotten smell of the sea could cover it. 

Nausea clawed at his throat as his entire body covered in cold sweat. His stomach contracted violently. He sank to his knees and retched. Only clear liquid managed to come up. He had no idea how long since he had last eaten, but it clearly had been a while. His throat was sore and raw from the stomach acid that he expelled, a bitter misery that he didn't think was ever going to end.

It was when he heard it - a lullaby that was disjointed by the violent clashes of the sea. And yet there it was, barely audible. It reminded him so much of the songs that his mother used to sing to him when he was sick. They were of different tunes, in different languages. And yet the love and tenderness in every note were so similar. Sorrow washed over him, as his tears fell down his face that was already drenched with water and sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Nobunari Oda(織田信成)*: is a retired Japanese figure skater. He is the 2006 Four Continents champion, a four-time Grand Prix Final medallist (silver in 2009 and 2010; bronze in 2006 and 2013), the 2005 World Junior champion and the 2008 Japanese national champion. After his retirement, he works as a professional skater, a TV personality and a coach. He is known to be one of Yuzuru Hanyu's good friends. 
> 
> Shoichiro Tsuzuki(都築章一郎)**: a legendary figure skating coach who coached Minoru Sano (佐野稔) to become Japan’s first bronze medallist in the Men’s singles category at the World Championships. He was Yuzuru Hanyu's coach at Konami Sports Club Izumi (now Ice Rink Sendai) until December 2004 when the Club shut its doors due to financial difficulties, forcing him to leave Sendai, and moving his base to Kanagawa Skating Rink in eastern Kanagawa.
> 
> Translation note:
> 
> Sensei(先生)***: is a Japanese honorific. It is used after a person's name and means "teacher". It can also be used to address other professionals or persons of authority, such as clergy, accountants, lawyers, physicians and politicians or to show respect to someone who has achieved a certain level of mastery in an art form or some other skill, e.g. accomplished novelists, musicians, artists and martial artists etc..


	31. Chapter 31

Yuzuru hadn't been acquainted with hunger for a long while. Not since he was about six years old, eyes wide and rebellious. At least he was, according to the people who "looked after" him. Meals that mostly consisted of pottage made of rice and preserved vegetables thinned out with so much water that he could particularly see the bottom of his bowl. He was fed twice a day if he was being deemed to be good on that particular day. But more often than not he was only given one or none because these people believed it would "starve out his rebellious soul". 

He was too young to understand what exactly it meant. He was naturally curious and eager to learn at that age. A sponge that greedily absorbed everything that Tsuzuki-sensei was ready to teach, including the "radical ideas" and knowledge that was deemed "beyond the scope that he was entitled to". 

Yuzuru was simply too young to hide his eagerness to impress, he supposed. He had no idea what happened, but one day he was taken to see a stern looking man, who was very keen on asking him many questions. And after that, his teacher ceased to come to their lessons. And when he asked about him, his mother explained with a sad smile that his teacher had left for an extended vacation. Yumi wasn't ready to teach him the concept of death, but nonetheless, it was taught to him not long after.

His family naturally tried to help him, passing on a few snacks whenever the guards looked away, an onigiri ball, or an apple or two. But it was soon discovered, and they were punished swiftly. He remembered the lashes that blemished his sister's once flawless skin and the resulting fever that lasted for days. He remembered the pungent smell of various herbs that a guard who was sympathetic enough to sneak in for them after their mother's persistent begging. Those leaves and roots were crushed to form a paste to cover the bleed wounds, as Saya moaned in pain. Dark and raised, these scars never faded away. 

So Yuzuru learnt to bend his knees, lower his head, and utter those words of gratitude. He was made to repeat every single one of them as part of his education until they were ingrained into his bones. 

Then again, he supposed he ought to be thankful because he had not known real hunger until now. In his sheltered world, food was mostly sufficed. Bland and repetitive, sure, but enough to get by nevertheless. And he was thoroughly spoiled during his stay at the Fernández House, where he never lacked anything. Funny how quickly time could change people, making them complacent. It hadn't even been two years, and yet his body had already lost most of his tolerance of hardship. 

Yuzuru had no idea how long he and the rest of the slaves had been left alone in this floating cell. His stomach snarled and howled. The hunger pangs came in waves until they became a constant pain. It almost felt like his stomach was slowly digesting itself. He treasured every second that he lost his consciousness, a few blissful moments he could shield himself away from reality. 

In the beginning, a few tried to bang on the walls and screaming for help, but their pitiful sounds easily swallowed up by the harsh wind. But Yuzuru knew no one was coming. Given the weather, the crew had most likely sought shelter themselves or being doing whatever they could to keep the boat afloat. They were the last things on their mind. 

Eventually, those people gave up as well. Hunger robbed them of spirit quick enough.

After that, no one made much sound. After all, conserving energy had become a priority if they wanted to stay alive. So they all sat or laid down silently, as a sense of resignation took over them. It was deadly quiet as the storm raged on, except for the sound of baby cries that emerged from time to time.

He didn't know how much time had passed, until one of the wooden gratings above their head, the gateway to the upper deck, was lifted briefly. The smell of cooked legume, oat and salted beef hit their nostrils long before buckets of food and water were being lowered down.

In his half-awake state, Yuzuru barely knew what was happening when he felt the chain on his left ankle was pulled sharply. He yelled in pain as metal cut into his skin. He was practically dragged forward on his back. Despite her tiny stature, the girl he was shackled to, Gabrielle Daleman* was incredibly strong. He was utterly helpless as people closed in onto him, as that girl continued to yank him forward. People all rushed ahead, flooding toward the same direction, each desperate for their share of food. 

He didn't think he was ever claustrophobic, but at that moment, panic filled his chest. Pain radiated from every part of his body, as people stepping over him, countless feet landing on his chest, tummy and legs. He had no choice but to roll to his side, curling into a ball, hoping to protect his vitals. More people fell as they tripped over him, or each other. Feet, hands, elbows and knee landed on every part of him that his hands couldn't protect as they fell on him or beside him. For a long while, there were screams of pain, cries of fears, outcries of joy. They mingled together to form a symphony from hell.

Finally, the crowd dispersed, after every scrap of food was scraped off from the bottom of these buckets. Nothing was spared - no even a drop of water. Yuzuru rolled over as he moaned in pain. Every muscle and bone protested with even the smallest movement. He struggled to sit up, only to find Gabrielle standing over him as he spat out blood onto the floor. She smirked at him as she swallowed down the last mouth. Her eyes looked over his pitiful form, disdain and mockery was clear as sunlight.

Just like that, indignation washed over him. A tiny spark that land on a pile of dry grasses, resulting in an unstoppable fire that burnt through an entire forest in no time. 

Adrenaline flooded his system as he remained alert in the next few hours. When the buckets were lowered down the next time, he was ready. He grabbed hold of Gabrielle's hand as he jumped onto his feet. He dashed forward, as she followed suit, but not before she gave him a look of surprise. 

Initially, both of them struggled to make their way onto the front, as the crowd once again flooding forward to the same direction. Soon, they found their rhythm and managed to wrestle their way forward using their combined mass. 

Both of them used their own bodies as weapons. And Yuzuru hadn't had a second thought as his hands and elbows stroke down on a few spines, side of waist or back of heads until these people around them finally yield. He instinctively knew these were the areas of vulnerability based on his personal experience from the last time. And he wasn't particularly concerned about how many of them stumbled or fell as result, or how they screamed in panic or fear. Yuzuru didn't care, as his mind was already focused on that one goal. And it worked as the crowd parted around them slowly but surely.

In the end, between the two of them, they managed to score two bowls of water and four hardtacks. They divided them between themselves equally. They gave each other a nod. A silent agreement in forming a partnership, after each recognising their own chance of survival would improve significantly if they had each other's back.

Yuzuru's jaw and front teeth both protested when he tried to take his first bite of the hardtacks. Gabrielle rolled her eyes before pushing his bowl of water toward him. Yuzuru watched as she soaked it in her bowl to soften it up until it was at a chewable consistency. He followed suit.

Made from nothing but flour, water, and a bit of salt, it was hardly tasty even in his famished state. But he still wolfed it down. His entire brain focused on the simple task of chewing and swallowing as his shrunken stomach expanded painfully to accommodate food once again. But he never stopped, because to stop it would mean looking at the two barely recognisable forms that were lying just a couple feet away, as blood soaked through the wood beneath them. Hunger had taken away his ability to care. And the nagging guilt coming from wondering about how much he contributed to it would only come later. Much, much later.

It was the cries of a baby nearly by that broke him out his maniac state. Meagan Duhamel**, the young mother who had sung to soothe her child throughout the worst of storms, was at her wits' end, as tears tumbled down her cheeks. 

She was one of the few who wasn't shackled to another slave. Instead, a weight was attached to her chain, effectively slowing down her movements. Perhaps the crew thought her child was enough a assurance to ensure her compliance. The child hungrily sucked on her mother's nipples, and when no milk was produced, she started to cry. Her mother was so malnourished that she had nothing in her body to spare. And she was too worried about her baby's safety, so she never even thought about joining the frantic fights over food. 

Yuzuru wasn't sure what made him pushed over his half-eaten meal, the one he fought so hard for, toward her direction. Perhaps the desperation and love in her eyes that reminded him of Yumi, or the pitiful cries of the baby that reminded him of his own, the one he might never get a chance to hold in his arms. 

Gabrielle snorted. Her beautifully sharp features distorted in scorn. 

"Fucking idiot!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Gabrielle Daleman*: is a Canadian figure skater. She is a 2018 Olympic gold medallist in the team event, the 2017 World bronze medallist, 2017 Four Continents silver medallist, 2014 CS Autumn Classic champion, and two-time Canadian national champion. She used to train at the Toronto Cricket Club under Lee Barkell, Brian Orser, and Tracy Wilson. In 2019, she changed the training locations to the Granite Club, to follow her main coach Lee.
> 
> Meagan Duhamel**: is a Canadian pair skater. With partner Eric Radford, she is a two-time world champion (2015, 2016), a 2018 Olympic gold medallist in the team event, a 2014 Olympic silver medallist in the team event, a 2018 Olympic bronze medallist in the pairs event, a two-time Four Continents champion (2013, 2015), the 2014–15 Grand Prix Final champion, and a seven-time Canadian national champion (2012–18). On June 5 2015, she and Bruno Marcotte got married. Their daughter Zoey was born in October 2019.


	32. Chapter 32

Yuzuru woke up with a gasp, feeling very disoriented. In those short moments that his mind drifted off, he was back in the Fernández House where he had everything: a tummy that was filled with delicious food, clothes that sheltered him from the cold, and a heart that was filled with so much love for that one man. And that man, in return, would always hold him between his arms, his fingers caressing his face tenderly, as those chocolate brown eyes were filled with so much love that he could drown in them. 

But those fervent dreams came and went, leaving him behind with his growling belly, and a heart that was nothing but a dark void. So he tried to keep his eyes wide open, just hoping to delay that crushing sense of disappointment that always followed. But soon, that disappointment was replaced by anger, an anger that was directed at himself. Just look at where he was, and yet his heart longed for things that were never meant to be his.

Like many others, he chose to look up at the lamps that were hanging above his head, letting their swinging glows filling his entire vision. It was a much better alternative than looking at the two bodies that were barely a few feet away from him - a trampled mess of bloody flesh and crushed bones. The flies buzzed around them, enticed by the scent of blood, just like the rats that circled them, taking their share of the feast. 

Sometimes, just sometimes, Yuzuru missed Axel. That constant presence inside of him that whispered, taunted and manipulated; a much welcome distraction in a moment like this. He knew anything offered by Axel always came with a price tag, but those brief moments of pure power that he experienced were so intoxicating that it became a mere afterthought. To lose it was like having a part of him carved out. 

Time seemed to cease moving in the hold. Not that he was capable of keeping track of it other than relying on the timing of their meals, which had already been proven unreliable.

One day, after the wooden gratings above their head was lifted, instead of buckets of food and water, a rope ladder was rolled down instead. And it was the first time Yuzuru was allowed to venture outside of their cell.

After making his way upward along with his fellow slaves, Yuzuru found himself in a large storage compartment. A latched door was built onto the floor, forming a hidden gateway that led down to the slave's living quarter. It was purposely made inconspicuous, easily hidden beneath other cargos that were being exported out to Russia as front - cotton, linen, china and iron ore, just enough to pass the Canadian custom's watchful eyes. Human trafficking and slavery were outlawed in Canada, after all. 

They were ushered toward the deck from there. The grey skyline was virtually indistinguishable from the sea. A harsh wind blew by them as they shivered. Their nostrils were assaulted with the strong scent of the ocean, but it was a welcome change to the fetid air in their prison. 

In his peripheral vision, Yuzuru caught a glimpse of those two dead bodies were carried up by a few crews and thrown off the ship. Like many others, he quickly looked away. But it was much harder for him to erase the event from his mind altogether. Soon after, he was on his knees beside Gabrielle, futilely trying to scrape away the blood had that long seeped into the wooden floor, both of his hands stained muddy red.

Whenever weather permitted, Captain Kurt Browning* allowed the slaves to be brought up for fresh air and exercise. After all, it was his duty to ensure these precious cargos arriving at the destination in the best possible condition both physically and emotionally, for him and his crews to be paid. 

The slaves, who were deemed to be well behaved, were tasked with errands such as cleaning, cooking and laundry. These were considered positions of privilege. Most people were desperate for the additional food and water that were given out as reward. But for Yuzuru, it meant more freedom to roam the ship, mingle with the crews for information. And the crew loved to gossip, and particularly when there was enough liquor to loosen their tongues. Yuzuru managed to pick up bits and pieces of information this way and was finally able to piece enough of them together so he had some understanding of his situation.

The Wanderer was a cargo ship in name, but in reality, a slave ship in disguise. This operation had been running for decades without being discovered by the Canadian government. Quiet likely the entire operation had been protected by someone with significant financial and political capital. If Yuzuru were to take a bet, he would put his money on the Chan family. The Crown Prince could be a major stakeholder in this, if not the owner. 

The ship itself was quite old, and not magically fitted hence susceptible to the all natural elements and general wear and tear. Magical stones were notoriously expensive. In order for them to maximise profit, The Wanderer sailed the old fashion way. 

The ship carried sex slaves of various ages and ethnicity between Canada and Russia, a flourishing trade that mostly aimed at bringing fresh blood to local brothels. It certainly made a lot of sense to Yuzuru as to why he was here. After all, the Crown Prince did promise him a life of a lowly whore in the seediest whorehouse. Patrick would never be satisfied with his swift death. His true enjoyment came in knowing the Japanese living a life of misery and humiliation until he took his last breath. Yuzuru supposed he ought to be thankful, exactly as Patrick's words, because he was still alive. And that will to live burnt brightly inside of him.

The Chief Mate Elvis Stojko** and the Second mate Marina Zoueva*** ran the ship with iron fists on behalf of their captain. Both the crews and the slaves learnt quickly that their transgressions would not be easily overlooked.

Despite a long period of celibacy on the sea, most of the crews knew better than getting their hands on the merchandise. They learnt to be content with lewd stares, dirty words, and occasional quick fondling when no one else was looking. Of course, some of the new recruits, the more foolish ones, tried their luck. 

One of them was flogged to death in the hands of Marina Zoueva, after a girl bled to death during her brutal rape. In the views of senior crew members, the loss of a highly prized young virgin was a significant cost to the business. Hence the offender was quickly made an example of to deter the others from committing the same crime. It was the first time Yuzuru had seen a cat-o'nine-tails, a whipping tool that was specifically created to maximise pain. It consisted of nine lengths of cord, each of one with three knots designed to rip flesh from the body. Yuzuru still remembered the Russian decedent's cold tone as she ordered the rapist to be secured onto the mast, and the warm blood that splattered across his face each time the whip landed on that bare back. That man didn't survive the 100 lashes that he was given as punishment.

The slaves who dared to show any defiance were also dealt with swiftly. Some of the younger ones, upon learning the fate that waited for them on the other side of the ocean, refused to eat. In those cases, Speculum Oris, an instrument that shaped like a pair of scissors, was used. They forcefully pried those mouths open, so soup could be poured down their throats as these people chocked and spurted. The repeat offenders were also promptly punished. Yuzuru didn't know there were so many ways to make another human being suffer without shedding a drop of blood, such as forcing long needles in between each of the nail beds. The resulting screams were almost inhuman like, as the others who were forced to watch on stoically. And yet, there was no scar whatsoever. Any method that depreciated the merchandise' value was generally considered last resort. 

This was a world that was beyond Yuzuru's wildest imagination. A reality that he had been sheltered from, despite years of harsh treatment in the hands of Empress Hashimoto. Like most others, he learnt to bow his head and appear submission. Any sign of anger, sympathy or sadness could be interpreted as a form of defiance. 

In spite of Yuzuru's best afford not to stand out, he still did. He didn't realise that until Captain Browning walked pass him one day, and ordered him to lift his head. He was on his knees at the time, scraping the floor of the main deck. He did as he was commanded, only to find that man's lustful eyes running over him, practically stripping him out of clothes. He shivered. 

Almost all slaves on this ship came from poor families, and such was evident with just one glance. Their hands were callous from endless work in the field, their skin dry and dull from years of exposure of the harsh sun, their hair dry and brittle from malnutrition and lack of daily care. 

And Yuzuru was beautiful, flawlessly so. Despite his dirty clothes and matted hair, the skin peaking beneath his worn clothes was porcelain-like. His body was well balanced, lean and gracefully sculptured by all those hours that he spent on dancing and skating. And his eyes still sparkled like the shiniest black obsidian stones.

He supposed he was lucky that day. The older man didn't get a chance to do anything before he was called away to some urgent business. He exhaled in relief. It was Meagan, who helped out in the kitchen from time to time, gave him a handful of soot, and helped to make him less conspicuous in the crowd. And Yuzuru smiled at her, thanking her kindness. 

Behind him, Gabrielle, who took in the entire incident at a glance, was silent as her eyes glinted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Kurt Browning*: a Canadian figure skater, choreographer and commentator. He is a four-time World Champion and Canadian national champion.
> 
> Elvis Stojko**: a Canadian figure skater. He was a three-time World champion, two-time Olympic silver medallist, and seven-time Canadian champion.
> 
> Marina Zoueva***: a Russian figure skating coach, choreographer, and former competitor in ice dancing. She represented the Soviet Union with Andrei Vitman, and together they placed 5th at the 1977 World Championships and won two medals at Skate Canada International. She coached Patrick Chan from September 2016.


	33. Chapter 33

Yuzuru's time on The Wanderer was a sobering experience for a naive boy like himself. He had only ever known hunger and scarcity as forms of punishment or tools of education. He didn't realise that outside of the glamorous court, and those expensive mansions and castles, many regular people lived in constant starvation and poverty.

Amongst his fellow slaves, there were sisters and brothers being sold so their younger siblings could survive through a harsh winter, sons and daughters who exchanged their freedom for medication for their sick parents. Many of those who had been through the slave trade multiple times that they no longer had any memory as free people. Their lives had been reduced to vessels for others' pleasure and wicked needs, all for a small bagful of copper coins.

Yuzuru didn't know the market price of meat, flour, oat or vegetable. He had no idea that a large bag of wheat or rice was high enough price for a ten-year-old virgin child on a particularly bad year of harvest or war in rural towns. And the slave traders often raked in 10 times of profit, when they flipped the merchandise in the big cities.

He still remembered the jewels, furs, and exquisitely embroidered gowns that he used to own. He had some understanding of their value. Javier was a very generous master who took great pleasure in showing off his possession, after all. But he could never fathom that any of the luxuries he took for granted was more than enough to purchase the freedom of entire shipful of slaves, and many times over. 

Meagan's story was a somewhat familiar tale. A lowly slave who managed to catch her master's eyes, and for three years, that man treated her like a crown jewel. She saw love when it was nothing more than a mere reflection of the moon in a river, and gave her heart away when she should have known better. 

That fantasy fell apart shortly after she fell pregnant. This was where her mistress, who had always been tolerating of her husband's various transgressions, drew the line. A child, illegitimate or otherwise, who could potentially pose a challenge to her own children's inheritance, was considered a serious threat. And her master, who married into his wife's family for money and status readily conceded. And no amount of pleading from a desperate mother to be was enough to sway that hardened heart. Love, that fragile feeling, meant so little ultimately, just like the reflection of the moon that disintegrated upon your fingertips. The lady of the house, who was widely regarded as a kind woman by the society, was generous enough to allow both Meagan and her child to live. She was then sold to a brothel and made to service men who came and went until right before she went into labour. There were plenty of men who had that kind proclivity after all.

It was almost like staring into a mirror, while Yuzuru looked at Meagan as she told her story, sadness and hurt emanating from every word. Her eyes were shiny from the tears that were barely constrained from falling, the hurt and longing that would never completely go away. His heart ached for her, as he remembered the bittersweet memories that he had most likely glamorizing through his own wishful thinking. How stupid both of them had been, seeing things that never existed.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, snorted. Sentiment had always meant so little to her. She was a practical person, after all, considering she willingly went into the sex trade in exchange for a roof over her head and a bellyful of food. She simply got tired from living on the street, trying to make a living out of pickpocketing as the gang she was forced to be part of took the majority of her hard-earned money and beat her up whenever she failed to hit her quota. 

Her tiny frame barely contained her fierce spirit. Her dark hair was a mess of frizzy curls, wild and unconstrained just like her temperament. And yet, she was the favourite amongst the senior crews, with her sharp features, deeply set eyes, and a smile that allowed her to get away with pretty much anything. And that gave her status on this ship. She always had a fresh set of clothes, more meat and vegetables in her meals, and even fruits as snacks. Apples, pears or oranges, all incredibly valuable in a long voyage, and were certainly not part of a slave's ration. She was rarely shackled to Yuzuru any more, as she disappeared to who knew where some of the days, and most of the nights. 

It wasn't until the day Yuzuru was assigned cleaning duty around the quarterdeck he finally pieced everything together. Behind a half-closed door, Gabrielle straddled the Chief Mate Elvis Stojko, her thighs widely parted as she welcomed the relentless pounding as the older man took his pleasure in her. His face was buried between her ample breasts as he growled like an animal thirsting for blood. Apparently, all those rules about not touching the merchandise did not apply to the upper ranks. 

Yuzuru quickly turned away, only to find himself being cornered by another man, a presence that he failed to notice until now. His eyes widened in shock, as he silently berated himself for his momentary carelessness. 

Captain Kurt Browning was a man in his late 40s. He was meticulously groomed for a sailor. Hair trimmed short to accommodate his rescinding hairline, and clean-shaven, he habitually wore dark clothes. But he was also a man of material comfort. His clothes were soft and durable while being practical, just like the expensive sword that he always carried with him, polished and sharpened until it cut through human flesh like tofu. He was not a well-muscled man by any means, but definitely not to be underestimated. On this ship, his words were the law. 

And right now, that man had his hands pressed against the wall behind Yuzuru, particularly pinning him there with no means of escape. His eyes glinted as his lips curled to form a wicked smile. 

He leaned forward as he examined Yuzuru, like a particularly enticing dish just waiting to be inhaled. He rubbed his thumb against the Japanese's bottom lips, as the callous skin got moistened by that boy's saliva. 

Yuzuru shivered as he whispered into his ears, goosebumps covered every inch of his body, "You could have everything that she has and a hell lot more."

Couldn't bear to be under the scrutiny of that man for another second, Yuzuru turned his head away sharply. It was an act that could easily be interpreted as defiance. The Japanese regret his impulsive behaviour almost immediately. To his surprise, the older man only laughed and backed away. 

"I have no interest in forcing myself on anyone. Where is the fun in that?" Captain Browning chuckled, as he gestured for Yuzuru to leave. 

And Yuzuru was more than glad to be allowed to get away. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him.

He never looked back and saw how the older man ran his moistened thumb against his own lips. His tongue enjoyed a taste of Yuzuru that still lingered on his finger before he made his way inside to take his share of fun.


	34. Chapter 34

Captain Browning kept his words and stayed away from Yuzuru. 

The gifts came first - the clean clothes, the hearty meals and snack, the shower privileges. Yuzuru shared whatever he received with his fellow slaves, while Gabrielle rolled her eyes and muttering not so flattering words under her breath. His remained unmoved even after the carrots were replaced by the sticks. 

Yuzuru then found himself being banned from leaving the slaver quarter. Meals were purposely served outside to ensure he missed out on his ration. Still, The Japanese remained unaffected despite his empty stomach constricted painfully. But his friends were there to help. Meagan managed to steal a handful of foods from the kitchen from time to time. David, the 15-year-old American descent with a blinding smile, somehow managed to smuggle them into their cell. Yuzuru had never quite worked out how he was able to hide anything on that scrawny form. Then Annie and Emma, the twin sisters with bright ginger hair, would shelter the Japanese with their bodies as he gulfed down food. 

Yuzuru had no trouble understanding the message that Captain Browning had intended to send - his life was in the hands of that man. And he could either make his life easier or a living hell. And yet he remained nonchalant. Eventually, it all came to a stop, to Yuzuru's relief. But if he thought it marked the end of the Captain's peculiar interest he was certainly mistaken. 

Before long, Yuzuru found himself the target of the crew. Apparently, the brutal death of one of their own wasn't enough to deter them. Even under the broad daylight, he found himself ducking between the masts and sails, hiding between the decks.

He stumbled his way through the unfamiliar areas, as he found himself an unwilling prey with a pack of predators tailing on his every step. Lead by the Third Mate Eric Radford*, their taunting laughter and thrilled roars echoed throughout the space surrounding him, as they called for their "pretty Japanese whore". 

Despite the cold weather, his clothes and hair were slicked with perspiration. They clung to his skin, as sweat rolled down in thick salty beads. He could feel his heart throbbing inside his chest. Every laboured breath was loud like thunder in his own ears as his lungs struggled to keep up. His visions swayed before his frosted breathes as fear plagued him. 

He knew perfectly well what these men were capable of. The memory of the brutal death of that girl who didn't survive the rape was still fresh in his mind. He was tasked with the clean up after her lifeless form was taken away, carelessly thrown over a sailor's shoulder like a sack of potato. Her blood was still tricking down, leaving behind a long trail with every step taken.

Tried as he might, these men simply had too many advantages over him. Not only in their numbers but also their knowledge of the ship. After all, they knew every inch of this vessel like the back of their hands. And inevitability, Yuzuru found himself being cornered and separated from the rest of the slaves with nowhere to run. 

They made a grab of him, their hands were filthy with dirt-filled cuticles. They smiled at him lecherously with their crack lips and crocked teeth. They smelt of dirt, sweat, and the lust that rolled off them in waves. It was enough to nauseate him. He tried to turn away from their touches, hands raised high, as he fought to keep them away. But there were just so many of them. A sense of futility overwhelmed them.

It was when he saw Captain Browning, who stood meters away and looked on with a look of amusement. Those dark eyes burnt against his skin. Goosebumps littered on Yuzuru's arms, but indignation burnt so brightly inside of him at the same time. It was when the Japanese finally worked out what kind of game it was. 

These men the captain commanded were nothing but bounds. They followed their master's command, tracked and chased the prey to drive it to the open for him to take the fatal shot. And Captain Browing want Yuzuru to get on his knees and beg for his protection, offering himself on a silver platter.

So Yuzuru ceased struggling and lowered his hands. Instead, he held his head high as he locked his eyes with Captain Browning. His obsidian eyes were willful and defiant, spelling out a challenge to those surrounding him. He remained stoic even as those hands prying off his clothes, and their hot breaths stung his skin as lips and tongues fought to have a taste. And yet, he didn't care for any of it. His eyes remained focused on Captain Browning's as the two of them engaged in a battle of will. 

At that moment, it was almost like his entire body ran on pure adrenaline. Everything was intensified, the fear, the anger, and sheer stubbornness that sustained him. His skin tingled, as his heartbeat erratically in his chest, so hard that it seemed to be on the verge of bursting. And yet he refused to back down. 

Ultimately, Captain Browning was the first one to look away. He broke into laughter. With a loud whistle, all his hounds backed away immediately, disappearing into the many shadowed corridors along with their master. 

Yuzuru sank to the floor. His jelly-like legs could no longer support him. As adrenaline faded away, a sense of relief and triumph came flooding in. They overwhelmed him. He found himself laughing like a mad man.

To his surprise, the older man made no further attempts after that. Either he was preoccupied with more pressing matters, or he had found another pair of thighs to satiate his lust. Either way, it was a relief. 

For ten days afterwards, life went on as usual on The Wanderer. At first, none of the slaves noticed anything out of the ordinary. 

For a ship that predominately relied on wind and currents to get to its destination, occasional stalls on the sea were nothing unusual. Most just considered a normal period to be becalmed.

There was something very soothing as the entire ship came to a standstill. During the day, the ocean surrounding them transformed into a canvas with barely a ripple, as it reflected a mosaic of colours from the sunlight. It was so blue and bright that it was nearly impossible to tell where the ocean ended, and the sky began. 

During the cloudless and moonless nights, the view was just as breathtaking. Yuzuru often found himself pausing between his chores, eyes greedy as he lost himself in a moment of beauty. More stunning than any jewels that he had laid his eyes up, those starlights were so bright that they actually cast a faint shadow on the deck. 

However, none of the crews seemed to pay these with much attention. Instead, they whispered amongst themselves, voice low and raspy. And these talks always came to a halt whenever a slave was around. Yuzuru should have taken it as a warning sign. But he didn't.

Before long, the slaves were once again locked down in their quarter, despite the calm weather. Initially, the rations still came. But the amount steadily decreased over the next few days until they ceased entirely. It was then they realised something had gone wrong. Tensions quickly rose amongst the slaves. Anywhere Yuzuru looked, confusion and fear were written on every face in his view.

"It's so obvious, we are about to run out of food and water," Gabrielle whispered into Yuzuru's ears. Her voice deliberately lowered in a moment that she was sure that no one else was listening in, "They will prioritise the crews and leave us to our fate."

Yuzuru's eyes widened. 

"Now tell me, do you want to live?" She demanded.

The choice was an easy enough one.

"Then do what I say! Only what I say! Do you understand?" She demanded as her hand held Yuzuru's chin in a crushing grip, eyes dark and heated, "Both of our lives depend on it!"

A hard lump formed on his throat, nonetheless, Yuzuru nodded.

In the death of the night, after most had fallen asleep, Gabrielle took Yuzuru's hand and directed him to an inconspicuous corner of their cell. She knocked on one of the many wooden panels briefly. Before long, the latched door above their head was lifted temporarily, and then a rope ladder was thrown down. Both of them quickly made their way up before the commotion could draw any attention.

Third Mate Eric Radford was waiting for them on the upper deck. Wordlessly, he directed them to a secluded corner and handed them a pile of clothes, a small bucket of water and two towels. Ignoring his lewd stare, Gabrielle and Yuzuru quickly wiped themselves down before dressed in those clean clothes. They were nothing fancy, only made from soft cotton, but was already a luxury comparing to the threadbare linen tunic they were made to wear. 

Then both of them were lead to the captain's quarter. 

Yuzuru knew precisely what was waiting for him behind that closed door - a man with a wicked smile on his lips, and heated dark eyes that were so eager to see him fallen apart. 

After all, he was hardly a naive child any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Eric Radford*: a Canadian pair skater. With his partner Meagan Duhamel, he is a two-time world champion, a 2018 Olympic gold medallist in the team event, a 2014 Olympic silver medallist in the team event, a 2018 Olympic bronze medallist in the pairs event, a two-time Four Continents champion, the 2014–15 Grand Prix Final champion, and a seven-time Canadian national champion. He is the first openly gay man to have won a gold medal at any Winter Olympics. During the 2014 Olympics, Duhamel and Radford became the first pair to land a side-by-side triple Lutz jump at any Winter Olympic competition. At the 2018 Winter Olympics, they became the first pair to complete a quadruple throw jump at any Winter Olympic competition when they completed their throw quadruple Salchow.


	35. Chapter 35

Captain Browning seemed to be a man with an abundance of patience. Even as his senior crewmembers indulged themselves with Gabrielle, he was content with studying Yuzuru's hands instead.

He cradled those in his own palms. His fingers traced over every blister, scar and chilblain there. Every one of them depicted Yuzuru's life on the Wanderer. The blisters were from the endless hours of sweeping, scrubbing and cleaning. All these small pockets of fluid in the upper skin layer were a vain attempt for the body to cushion the once delicate skin, as Yuzuru struggled to learn how to use the brooms, mops and scrubbing brushes. Injuries and bruises were constant in this new life, and without healing salve, they tended to scar. They littered throughout Yuzuru's hands, big or small, pink or brown, all in various stages of healing. Between them were the chilblains, the reoccurring red and violet-coloured patches that were unavoidable as with prolonged and constant contact with ice-cold water. 

There was nothing beautiful about them anymore. Not the redden knuckles, swelling fingers nor the dry skin. Yuzuru's fingernails had grown long, so long that they hindered his work, so he tore them short with his teeth just like his fellow slaves. They were now ragged and ugly. The skins around his cuticles were cracked and peeling. Dirt was trapped underneath his fingers. And yet, the older man examined those hands, so intently and almost obsessively, like they were the fascinating things he had ever seen.

Trying to distract himself from the growing sense of unease, Yuzuru unfortunately, became more susceptible to what was happing around him. He blushed blood red, as heat pooled on his face. 

He was hardly a virgin any more, and yet there was something extremely salacious about the way the three people who were enjoying themselves at the other end of the quarter. Chief Mate Stojko groaned as he thrust into Gabrielle relentlessly, his breath heavy and strained. Gabrielle's answered each thrust with seemingly insatiable moans whenever she had a chance to lift her head to catch some breath. Only those opportunities were far and few between, as she would be forced down by Second Mate Zoueva's not so gentle hands as she impatiently shoved Gabrielle's head back down between her thighs. It certainly didn't help that the Third mate, Eric Radford, was licking his lips hungrily as he eyed Yuzuru, his hand palming his very much visible erection. Clearly, he was eagerly waiting for his Captain's permission to share.

Yuzuru could feel his nerve losing by the second. How naive he had been, thinking he could get whatever that needed to be done to happen quickly, so it was over and done with. Every second of delay only resulted in more doubt creeping into his head. 

His hands trembled, just barely, and yet it didn't go unnoticed. Captain Browning lifted his head, finally looked at him in the eyes. He was clearly amused, "Surely, you have done your fair share of that."

"I... I didn't... My master didn't like to share," Yuzuru stuttered before he finally found his voice, and earned himself a chuckle from the older man.

"I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to get used to that."

Under those dark and taunting eyes, Yuzuru couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. And almost immediately, he had realised that it wasn't a mistake he could afford to make. Exposing your own weakness before a predator wasn't so different from exposing your neck and inviting a knife to the throat. 

Before he had any chance to remedy his mistake, either by putting up an air of indifference or divert the conversation elsewhere, he found himself trapped beneath the older man after his back hit the bed beneath him. Now that man was on top of him, and his breaths were so close that they stung Yuzuru's exposed skin.

The Japanese look away, breath ragged, as sweat trailed down his cheeks. Everything felt so wrong at that moment. The body on top of him was big and imposing. Its looming presence was unfamiliar and intimidating. There wasn't an ounce of gentleness or care that he was long used to. Even in the darkest hours that he had spent with Javier, there was always something there that was enough to lure him into believing that love still existed between them, and his yearning for the Prince wasn't unrequited. And none of these things was here.

In Captain Browning's eyes, it was almost akin to an invitation. His calloused thumb ran along the delicate curve of Yuzuru's face. His fingers stroked his high cheekbones. He enjoyed every bit of trembling that the younger man had failed to hide from him. Then, he forcefully turned Yuzuru's face towards him, and he didn't care about the bruise that was starting to form beneath his fingers.

He made sure Yuzuru's eyes were on him as his hand made its way done, from the neck, to the collarbones, and to the chest that was partially exposed by the soft cotton shirt. These touches were deliberately light. Not because there was any gentleness or care beneath such gestures. Instead, it was a game played between the captor and the captured. A predator to toy with its food before sinking its teeth into the flesh and taking the first bite. Every shaken breath, every quiver, every flutter of the eyelids were a source of his enjoyment. How he loved seeing anguish and fear reflected in those once obsidian-like irides, they were now dull like burnt coals.

"Just do what you want to do," Yuzuru gritted his teeth. Indignation and hurt receded like ebb tides, only leaving behind shame and anger. 

The older man smiled, "As I said before, I have no interest in forcing myself on anyone."

"Fuck me!" The Japanese practically growled, with an equal part of anger and resignation. It was what the older man after from the start, wasn't it, for him to offer himself on a silver platter. 

And his outburst elicited a chuckle from the older man, as he hummed in satisfaction. It was the moment he had been waiting for, after all. He had wanted Yuzuru to concede, and he had. Pride was such a fragile thing, easily broken like an autumn twig, brittle and useless.

So he straightened his back and made a show of undressing. He unattached the sword belt from his waist and left his sword on the floor. Too impatient to deal with the buttons, he grabbed his shirt by the collar and pulled it over his head.

His vision was obstructed by the clothing for a mere a second, but it was all it took. By the time he felt the ice-cold sword against his throat, it was too late. Once his vision cleared, he was shocked to find his seeming resigned victim was the one wielding the deadly weapon. And those dark eyes were once again shining brightly like the stars on a cloudless night.

"You wouldn't dare-" The older man was very effectively silenced as he felt the blade pressing onto his fragile skin further. He could literally feel his blood travelling through the carotid artery at the base of his neck, against the cold metal. 

Yuzuru's hand was calm and in control. There wasn't even the slightest tremor. Nothing like an amateur. He was clearly professional trained, not only knowing how to handle a weapon but also familiar with the basic human anatomy to deliver a fatal blow. 

The younger man smiled as he dislodged himself from beneath the older man and stood up, forcing the other man to do the same as well. He ignored the angry scream and shocked exclamation all around him, as he gestured for Gabrielle to come to his side with a tilt of his head. 

Gabrielle cursed loudly as she extricated herself from between the Chief Mate and Second Mate. The three most senior members of the Wanderer were wise enough to stay where they were, given the prized hostage now Yuzuru had in possession, despite their anger and disbelieve. She stumbled her way to Yuzuru. Her bare skin glistened from sweat and cum beneath a robe that she managed to grab off the floor. 

"I should have known better than to trust you!" She growled furiously at Yuzuru. Still, her voice was deliberately lowered, knowing better than letting the others in the room to hear this particular conversation.

"I'm not going to apologise for what has to be done!" Yuzuru countered, "I wasn't going to place my life in the hands in those people, and I suggest you don't either. They simply can't be trusted. We would never cease to be expendable to people like them."

"Stupid! Stupid!" Seemingly running out of words to berate Yuzuru, she resorted to repeating these words under her breath, her chocolate brown eyes full of barely suppressed annoyance. 

"You have two choices now, Gabrielle," Yuzuru offered, "You could stay here and test out your luck, trying to convince these people you have no part in this. Or you could come with me, and now we have the most valuable leverage in hands ."

She groaned unhappily. Nonetheless, the decision was an easy one.

She pressed her back against Yuzuru's as he instructed. This way, they were to have an unhindered view from all sides, as all three of them backed away from the captain's quarter, making their way back down to the slave quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian Orser: never underestimate Mr Hanyu.  
😏😏😏


	36. Chapter 36

Yuzuru and Gabrielle safely made their way back to the slave quarter. And just as they expected, people didn't take this unexpected development all that well. 

There was a lot of confusion when their eyes first landed on Captain Browning. Fearful whispers broke out as they all started to back away, trying to keep as much distance to the man who ruled this ship with an iron fist as physically possible. For a long moment, none of them even noticed the sword that was held against the captain's neck, because their fear of him ran so deep. And when they finally did, none of them knew how to react as the entire room was reduced to stunned silence. 

Yuzuru ignored them all. Instead, he turned to Gabrielle, "Get me a rope. We need to secure him first."

Gabrielle, his unwilling accomplice, habitually rolled her eyes, and yet did precisely as he requested. Together, they tied their new hostage against one of the beams closer to the wall.

Then Yuzuru turned to the crowd that was slowly gathering around them, each face full of emotions, either of confusion or anger. Eventually, they found their voices, so all the questions, and exclamations pretty much all started at once, each one louder than the last. Tried as he might, Yuzuru couldn't make his voice being heard above all those shoutings.

It was clear as daylight that he was about to lose control of the situation. As various emotions amplified by anger and confusion got so heated like a melting pot getting closer to boil over, it was coming dangerously close to the point of eruption. Doubt finally crept into Yuzuru's head for the first time, as he finally considered whether it was all a big mistake.

It was a loud smashing sound of metal against metal that caught everyone's attention. Like the others, Yuzuru turned to the direction of the sound to find David, the scrawny American, who had just banged two of the metal food buckets together to quite everyone down. He gave Yuzuru another one his blinding smile, and Yuzuru returned it with a grateful nod. 

After that, it wasn't that hard to make his fellow slaves see starvation in a locked down cell was the only fate that awaited for them, unless they took the matter into their own hands. After all, the rations had ceased to come for days. And Captain Browning was their only leverage for a share of those precious resources that were under the control of the crews. No one could refute those facts. However, it was apparent that fear and submission had long being hardwired into most of them, enough to overcome even the slightest desire for rebellion. 

"You have lost your mind!"

"You will condemn us to our deaths before hunger and thirst!"

"We want no part of this insanity!"

One by one, all the angry growls grew louder once again.

Yuzuru gritted his teeth, as anger surged. Out of everything he had anticipated, he had failed to take the timid and pusillanimous nature of his fellow slaves into account, even in the face of their own survival, "Then let's test it out! We demand food for keeping their captain alive."

"What if it failed to work?"

"Then bind me with every rope that you could find and send me as a peace offering to these people. Surely your loyalties would be rewarded. "He countered in a heated moment. 

It was followed by a stunned silence. Apparently, that was enough to shut them up. For now, anyway.

Captain Browning chuckled as he shook his head in amusement, "That was some big promise to make."

"It's time to test your crew's loyalty," Yuzuru shot back, eyes fierce like the blue flame that had reached its peak temperature, "For both of our sakes, I hope they make the right choice. Otherwise, I would take you to death with me, I swear!"

It was either the unwavering look on his face that left no room for argument or every word that he was determined to follow through that finally made the look of smugness disappearing from the captain's face. Instead, he stared at the Japanese in silence, like he had seen him for the very first time. 

But Yuzuru didn't have the time to fathom about any of those changes. He had so much more work to do. 

So the slaves gathered, as they discussed what to do next. Yuzuru needed a volunteer to go up to the deck and negotiate with the Chief Mate Elvis Stojko, who was most likely in charge now in their captain's absence. 

Unsurprisingly, friends or foes, none of the slaves showed much enthusiasm in negotiating the crews on their behalf. Even if any of them was willing, Yuzuru wasn't sure they could be trusted to hold their own against the senior crews, let along seeing through the lies that would surely be disguised as sweet promises aiming to manipulate and deceive. Yuzuru would have done it himself, but he didn't trust his fellow slaves not to fall for Captain Browning's threats or bribes in his absence. Tied up or not, that man was never to be underestimated. 

In the end, it was Meagan who put her hand up.

"No, Meagan," Yuzuru shook his head, "You have a child."

She smiled. It was gentle yet determined, "All the reason for me to do this. I want both of us to live."

Then she stepped closer and whispered to make sure only he could hear those words, "I know you have reservation about every one of us."

Yuzuru opened his mouth, empty words that were mean to deny the obvious, but ultimately meaningless.

She saved him from all that trouble. As she handed her child to him, she continued, "So here is your leverage over me."

Astounded, Yuzuru accepted the precious bundle from her arms. The six months old looked at him adoringly, and her chubby face formed a smile as she giggled. Her fingers reached out for him as he gently stroked her baby-soft cheeks. Her tiny hand held onto one of his fingers with a surprisingly firm grip, "I will look after her, I swear on my life."

After a brief discussion over what the terms would be, Meagan went up the robe ladder. What they had hoped for were rather simple, and yet a lot to ask for - the remaining rations of food and water to be divided equally between each person, slaves or crews. And in turn, their captain would be handed back to them unharmed, after they reached the Russian shore, and all the slaved being released.

There wasn't anything more to do until Meagan's return. So Yuzuru waited.

Seconds turned into minutes, then minutes into hours. The crowd, most of which never had any faith in this endeavour, became increasingly restless. And Yuzuru started to pace as doubt quietly slithered into his head. He couldn't help but wondered what fate had fallen upon Meagan. Was the offer rejected outright? Was she dead? Or had she betrayed them all? 

And Captain Browning's eyes followed him. Interestingly that intense gaze was a lot less like a predator following its prey, waiting for a moment of weakness to pounce. Instead, it was almost scientific in his fascination, like scientists and scholars studying a rare creature. 

It was then Yuzuru came to realise what exactly he had been doing and stopped his pacing midway. His nervous body language had been picked up by the others, reflecting on those he was meant to keep calm. People pretended to look elsewhere, and yet they sneaked a few looks of him whenever they could. Each of those faces was full of worry and fear. No one would put their faith in a leader that failed to exuberate confidence after all. 

So instead, Yuzuru stood tall and proud, with his head held high as he guarded his precious hostage. His hand on the pommel as he steadied the sword that was now secured around his waist.

"I didn't think you know how to handle a sword," Captain Browning chose the moment to strike up a conversation, always eager to learn about his opponents, "Your hands told me a very different story. There were none of the telltale signs of a swordsman."

Yuzuru knew precisely what he meant. Besides all the newly formed cuts, bruises and blisters, there were no calluses built along the palm and fingers that typically resulted from hours of sword training that went on for months or years. 

"My caretakers deemed it was important for me to remain perfect for our master's pleasure," Yuzuru replied as his mind wandered to the hours spent in his room with his personal maids remedying his imperfections that were deemed unfitting for his role. 

Calluses were filled flat. Blisters were punctured, and the fluid inside was squeezed out. Magical ointments were applied one after another. The first one would eat into his skin like acid as he sunk his teeth onto his lower lip, body quivering from pain before the second one was applied, which forcefully healed them. And those newly formed skin were always baby soft and vulnerable, giving him no buffering whatsoever as he suffered from friction and force in his next sword fighting classes. Soon new blisters and calluses would start to form, only to be taken care of soon after. A whore's etiquette that must be befitting their master's status, they said.

"And did you feel the same way?"

Yuzuru briefly closed his eyes. When he was naive, and still believed in love, he thought none of that mattered in that man's eyes. Because Javier, the kind man he was, had loved him despite all his flaws and shortfalls - the trauma that took so long to overcome, his reluctance in engaging in sex, his inability to be that perfect partner who would bring him the political capitals or the crown. And Yuzuru, being so overwhelmed with this love, never knew what he could have offered in return. So he never objected to those things - being dressed up, being made beautiful, all to the Prince's preferences. All these inconspicuous things were all he could ever do for the man he had loved after all because there were so little else that he was capable of. 

And yet, he was proven wrong, wasn't he? He simply wasn't enough in the end.

So he refused to answer. It wasn't an easy feat under those intense eyes that were seemingly staring into his soul. It almost felt like admitting a defeat.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the far end of the cell. And Yuzuru couldn't be happier with the timing, as it gave him a way out.

The latched door above had been lifted. Meagan had returned, with Eric Radford following behind her with three other crewmembers, carrying enough water and food to last them for the day. 

Cheers erupted amongst the slaves, as they hugged each other and rejoiced.


	37. Chapter 37

Chief Mate Elvis Stojko was not an easy man to negotiate against, and yet, Meagan showed a surprising amount of wit and managed to hold her own. Ultimately, they were able to reach some form of compromises. It was agreed that the crew would provide the rations daily. And three of them would be allowed to carry them down the slave quarter and using the opportunity to ensure their captain's health and safety. 

Before the slaves all made the mad dash to the food and water, the young Japanese stopped them. And this time they listened, despite a few unhappy grumbles. Once they all had a moment to think, it was easy enough to realise poisoning would have been the easiest way to put an end to a coup.

Yuzuru and David caught a few rats. They pried their mouths open and fed them the oat porridge and water from each bucket. Then these little creatures were barricaded inside a few empty buckets that had been flipped upside down. And then they waited, as they listened to tiny claws scraping against metal ceaselessly.

The air was stuffy with heavy breathing and barely constrained anticipation. After all, they had been deprived of food and water for a while now. Not that they could keep track time, with the entire slave quarter being sealed off from the outside world. Inside it, the time had become a meaningless entity. But the ever-growing sense of deprivation remained very real. 

At some point, the growling pain in their stomach had died down, muted to a feeling of emptiness, making things a little bearable. But now seeing those precious supplies right at the front of them, those gnawing pits were once again reawakened with a vengeance. And yet they waited, knowing full well what the crews were capable of for those they deemed dispensable. 

By the time they were confident that they rodent friends had indeed survived the meal that was forced down their throat, the slaves cheered and rushed in for their share. It wasn't a lot, a bowl of water, and a half bowl of thinned out oatmeal porridge that was now icy cold by now. Still, they wolfed them down, tears of joy streaming down their cheeks.

Yuzuru beckoned Meagan over to a more secluded corner amidst all the commotions, so no one paid them any attention. 

"How much food and water are there?" He asked.

"Not a lot," Meagan sighed as she gently rocked the baby in her arms, getting her to fall asleep. The happy smile she had portrayed for all others to see had all but disappeared, "Barely enough to last the crews for about ten days. But with us sharing the ration it would be about seven."

The message not spoken in those words were quite clear. Yuzuru sighed. Not that he expected any differently. For a slave ship such as The Wanderer, forsaking its human cargos meant suffering from a considerable loss after a long journey. And that loss would be significant after taking into the cost of purchasing slaves, food, water, wages of the crew and ship maintenance into account. It was considered as absolute last resort. So the situation indeed had to be dire. But hearing it from Meagan only made it much more real. They would need a favourable wind soon. Their fate now laid within the hands of the Gods. And for the first time in his life, Yuzuru, who never believed in neither the God of East nor God of West, prayed for either of their mercy. 

After all the slaves had their share, Yuzuru took Captain Browning's ration to him. With the captain's arms bound behind his back around the beam, he had no choice but relied on the Japanese to feed him. A spoonful by spoonful, Yuzuru was almost gleeful as he watched the older man grimacing through the tasteless coagulated mess that stuck to his throat. Despite the hardship of long sea journeys, the captain of the ship always had the best of everything there were to have. Surely it was the first time he endured through a meal that wasn't flavoured by honey, cheese, dried meat or fruit.

"You know," As if sensing his epicaricacy, Captain Browning jabbed, "From the first time I laid my eyes on you, I wanted to chain you to my bed permanently. A beautiful butterfly being tangled by a spider web, helpless in its struggle to escape. And you would rely on me for everything - for food and water, or in life and death." 

There was that gaze again. It was harp like the pin that penetrated through the middle of the thorax, between the wings of a butterfly which rendered it defenceless. 

The spoon hit the now-empty bowl with a clung. Yuzuru quivered. It was merely for a brief second, but it was more than enough to get Captain Browning chuckling in gratification. 

The idea of being completely under that sadistic man's mercy, both physically and emotionally was horrifying. It was like a choking hold being placed against his throat. For a moment, his lung stopped working as his entire vision darkened.

Yuzuru didn't quite understand what was about the older man that rattled him so easily. After all, he had lived most of his life underneath the thumbs of one powerful person after another; each played him like a puppet for their own goals. Perhaps that was why - after all, these people, despite the penchant for cruelty and inclination of breaking him, each had their own reason to keep him alive. And Captain Browning had none of that, which made him even more dangerous. 

Then anger resurged. He now had the upper hand over the older man, and yet he was, once again being scared senseless like a child. So he held onto that anger with all his might and let it solidify his weakened will. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and snarled, "Look how it turns out in reality!"

Then he turned and left before that man could find another weakness to pry into. 

The older man became timider after that. He remained mostly silent for the next few days, for that Yuzuru was thankful. But that scrutinising look was back, as he examined the younger man like he held mysteries of all realms. And with sheer stubbornness, Yuzuru met each of heated gaze head-on.

Over the next few days, the rations continued to come as promised, but the quantity started to dwine once again. As a result, there had been growing voices of dissatisfaction amongst the slaves. At the same time, the crews had begun to demonstrate more aggressiveness as well, either out of their loyalty to their captain or dismay of having to share the limited resources. Slowly, the tension was starting mount once again. 

Further conflict between the crew and slaves was the last thing Yuzuru wanted. So he tried his best to comfort both sides. After all, the slaves were at a disadvantage despite having their captain in captive. Other than the sword that he took from the captain, they had no weapon of any sort. If the crews were backed into the corner and decided to forsake their captain, the slaves stood no chance against an army of sailors with plenty of battle experience. Even in the unlikely event of the slaves winning against the crew, none of them had any sailing knowledge or experience. This meant they ultimately had to rely on the crews to get them across to the other side of the ocean. So working together with minimum conflict was their only way out of this. But that was easier said than done.

As if sensing his unease, Captain Browning took the opportunity and offered him another way, "I have a house in St. Petersburg, and it's yours if you want it."

Yuzuru paused in the midway of feeding him water, "What do you mean?"

"I've changed my mind, a butterfly is most beautiful when it is free to roam amongst the flowers," the older man said. His smile was seemingly genuine and soft, "And I want you. Not as a fuck toy, not as a slave, but an equal partner to share my life with."

The Japanese raised his eyebrows in incredibility, this game was surely getting more ridiculous with each round, "And you expected me to believe this?"

"Why not," Captain Browning countered, he seemed to be genuinely surprised, "Don't you believe you are worthy of such devotion?"

Yuzuru snorted. Once upon a time, he did. He met a man who was patient enough to heal him, to cultivate him to his potential, making him dream of the unthinkable - a happy marriage with a partner who treasured him and who he loved in return, and children that would run around their garden as their giggles scattered around every corner of their home. And look where it left him with - nothing but once sweet memories that were now tainted with bitterness and disappointment. 

"Just think about this for me," The older man offered. Those eyes dark and fathomless as if gazing into his soul, "And I will wait patiently for an answer whenever you are ready."

Yuzuru looked away, almost ashamed to admit that he was almost moved in that split second. It was a weakness he never knew he had. A person who had been deprived for their whole life once had a taste of happiness, however brief it might be, would always be hopelessly drawn for a second chance. Never again. Because he wasn't weak like that.

As hard as he tried, the equilibrium that Yuzuru desperately wanted to maintain ultimately did fall apart. He had anticipated many scenarios - the crews attacking the slaves to rescue their captain, the slaves attempting to rob the crew of their share of the food. But he had never expected Meagan to be the detonation cord that led to the explosion. 

The hand that gently stroked her daughter's face and rocked her to sleep didn't tremble as she stuck a knife into the carotid artery on Captain Browning's neck and pulled it out hard. Blood splattered everywhere like rain, spraying onto everything within a few feet. 

Yuzuru watched in a daze, as a few drops of blood splattered across his face. He just stood there as his entire brain came to a halt. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood between his lips as the whole cell was filled with the nauseating scent of blood.


	38. Chapter 38

Meagan probably never truly understood the choice she made until the moment she faced her death. 

It happened all so quickly, after that. Amidst the blood and commotion, the crew came out seemingly from nowhere. She was constrained promptly before she realised what was going on. The triumph on her face was quickly replaced by shock and confusion, as they tied her arms behind her back. The back of her knees was brutally kicked, causing her to lose her balance. She dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Her head was pressed down against the stained floor, her lengthy hair soaked by the blood that was pooling at her feet. 

She struggled. Her face, pale as a ghost, tried to rise above the hands that were shoving her down, helplessly looking around. Probably for the one person who had promised her the world.

"This treacherous woman has killed our captain! The slaves have broken their promises!" Third mate Eric Radford yelled. And his seemingly angry outcry was quickly echoed by those surrounding him. Now all the crew were eager to see blood being repaid by blood.

"Master Eric! You promised-" Meagan futilely cried out, her timid voice strained. It was easily buried by all the shoutings around her. It was all she could get out of her throat anyway. A dirty rag was shoved into her mouth the next second, effectively silencing her. It was then secured in place by a rope that was tied behind her head. 

Meagan might not fully comprehend what just took place, but Yuzuru certainly did. A coup that aimed at challenge Captain Browning's absolute authority on this ship, the profit and connection that came with it. It might have been brewing quietly for days, months, perhaps even years, held back by fear of failure and retaliation. And Yuzuru unwittingly created the perfect opportunity for the change of power to occur, and Meagan executed it seamlessly. It was an ingenious plan, really. It didn't matter how it played out ultimately, the surviving senior crew who were most likely all in it together, remained blameless. They risked nothing but had everything to gain.

The Japanese berated himself for his rushed decision and short-sightedness. His overconfidence and simplistic view of the power dynamic on this ship lead to his downfall. He never thought about the what-ifs or had the backup plans. 

And Meagan, in her eagerness to be out of this bleak situation she grasped straws like a drowning man, seeing hope where there was none. Yuzuru could only imagine how easy it had been to turn her. 

Despite her kindness and gentle heart, her weakness was there for all to see - her beloved daughter, who entirely depended on her for her survival. And his inability to see that was the exact weakness these people exploited.

With her child strapped onto her back, the crew dragged Meagan up to the upper deck, to the side of the ship. The air outside was cold and stale. There wasn't any movement at all, not even the slightest hint of a breeze. It was almost as if time had come to a halt in the middle of this vast ocean. 

The salty water surrounding them was like a dulled glass, a reflection of the cloudy sky. There was barely any ripple to be seen. Then there they were.

At first, Yuzuru thought they were merely reflections of the sunlight. A flicker of silver that quickly came and went. Then he finally saw them. Beneath the seemingly peace surface, the silvery skin of sharks glimmered under the early morning sun. 

It was when Meagan finally understood the fate that was waiting for her and her child. Her struggles intensified, but they were useless against two men who were easily twice of her size. She looked around frantically and desperately, eyes moist and begging. Yuzuru didn't know what she was hoping for at that point. Perhaps a miracle. And yet, the slaves around them, who were purposely ushered there to see these traitors being made examples of, avoided her frantic gaze like the plague. It was either out of hatred of her treachery or worries for their own fate.

Yuzuru watched on as she ceaselessly struggled, screamed her voice hoarse behind the rag that was stuffed into her mouth in morbid fascination and a fair bit of bitter of epicaricacy. The Japanese had wanted to ask her what precisely these people had promised her with their sweet and empty words. A few bowls of food? Freedom and money? Was it all worth it in the end?

He was the only slave who didn't look away when these men threw Meagan and her child overboard. His head was held in place to ensure he didn't miss a second of same fate that was about to be bestowed on him shortly. His entire body trembled as he committed the horrifying image into his brain - a lesson in death he would never forget. 

In mere seconds, these animals shot out of the water, making huge slashes as they divided her and her child amongst themselves. Gone first were the arms, then the legs, and the heads, until there was nothing left of them but the brine water that had been stained pink. The crew around them cheered loudly, whilst the slaves choked on their sobs as tears of fear streaked down their faces. 

Yuzuru was shoved forward next. His waist landed against the edge of the ship before his body was flipped over. He found himself gazing onto the sneering face of the new promoted Second Mate Eric Radford.

Yuzuru's eyes landed on the older man's lips and his own lips curled vindictively. That face was no longer considered handsome now it was missing a chunk of the lower lip, leaving behind an ugly gap that was still bleeding profusely. The Japanese could still taste the salty tang of blood on his tongue.

He laughed, almost maniac like until he was forcefully silenced by a hand that firmly enclosed on his neck, choking him to silence. 

"I gave you a choice, whore! Now you get to live with that choice you made!" The older man sneered at him. That once handsome face twisted into something incredibly ugly. 

That he certainly did. That man's exact word back then had been "Drop down on your knees and wrap your pretty mouth around my cock. And I might let you live if it's talented enough to persuade me."

Yuzuru, who was utterly drained after fighting two of the crews, didn't have much choice at that point. Not when he had a sword held against his neck. 

To his credit, he did put up a fight after Meagan was apprehended. Despite having a sword in his hand, his status as a slave and his thin stature easily made others underestimated him. And he took advantage of that eagerly. It wasn't until he seriously injured two of the regular crews that they took him more seriously. With a wave of his hand, Eric commanded the others to stand back so he could take on Yuzuru by himself, after being intrigued by the level of skills the younger man had displayed. 

Yuzuru fought valiantly. Unfortunately, despite having two years of training under one of the finest sword trainers in all realms, Ghislain Briand, he wasn't a match against someone who was so battle experienced like Eric. The fight ended with Eric's sword against his carotid artery on his neck.

Knowing he had lost his fight, Yuzuru did get on his knees as he was commanded. And there he was, on the floor, head raised high as he looked up at Eric. His dark eyes shined with unshed tears, innocent and pleading, as those pink lips quivered. Eric didn't know what came over him as he grabbed hold of the Japanese, and brutally crushed their lips together.

Only to release him shortly as he wailed in pain. Yuzuru laughed hysterically as he spat out a chunk of flesh from his mouth, a bloody piece that he had torn off with his own teeth. Eric raised his hand high. The air cracked as a hard slap landed on Yuzuru's face, causing him to lose his balance. But Yuzuru never ceased his laughter as he was overtaken by a swarm of people, all eager to have him subdued.

"And what choice was that exactly?" Yuzuru jeered at Eric, "To be used and then cast aside, just like what you did to Meagan?"

"You-"

Yuzuru ignored a slew of curses that followed. He was done dealing with minions. Instead, he raised his head. His voice was loud and clear as he looked straight at Marina Zoueva in her eyes, the woman who passed on Patrick's message when he first woke up disoriented on The Wonderer, "Your master won't be pleased with my death! If he truly wants me dead, I would have been a long time ago!"

Just as he expected, Marina, who was feeling quite comfortable at sideline enjoying the show finally paled. The woman, who just took over the Chief Mate role, turned her head and exchanged a few quick words with their new captain Elvis Stojko. Their voices were far too low for Yuzuru to make out anything, but judging on their ridged and uptight body language, he knew he was about to get his way.

Yuzuru found himself being dragged away from the edge of the ship, away from the sharks that were being denied of another tasty meal. Instead, he was bounded to the main mast with his shirt torn off, his back exposed. 

Marina Zoueva, who gladly took over the role of delivering the punishment, whispered to his ears, "As you wish. I'm sure the Crown Prince won't mind his whore being little disfigured. After all, you will be spending the rest of your life on your back. Surely no one will care about how ugly it will be."

Then the cat-o'nine-tails, with its nine varied lengths of cords, landed on his back. Hard.

One  
Two   
Three  
Four   
Five  
....

Yuzuru let out strangled screams. One after another. Blood welled into his throat from the tongue he had just bitten through in a vain attempt to keep quiet. This particular instrument was specially designed to maximise pain as each of the knots that were attached to nine cords ripped flesh from his body whenever they landed on his back. 

The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Every inch of his skin was on fire, like lava that ate through his flesh. It was enough to shatter the strongest will. Not even the most seasoned sailor could withstand the pain it delivered. Before long, Yuzuru begged for death, which was only answered by Marina's amusement as more lashes landed on his bloody back. 

Long after his voice had given out, his body and his consciousness finally started to disintegrate. He could barely produce a whimper or twitch. All sensation began to dull. Light danced before his eyes, hollow and dimmed. He wondered if this is what the end was like.

So when he felt a slight breeze gently stroking his tear-stained cheeks, he thought it was nothing more than a trick that his brain played on him. Still, he fluttered his salt-encrusted eyelashes as he tried to distinguish reality from illusion. Soon, it got stronger.

"The wind is here!" The crew rejoiced as the becalmed finally came to an end. They rushed back to their posts under the direction of their new captain. The helm was turned, the sails raised, and the keel extended as they quickly got the ship ready for sail once again.

And Yuzuru, being forgotten amongst all the excitement, finally let his eyes slid shut.


	39. Chapter 39

Yuzuru's eyelids flickered open to an unlit room. 

In the pitch darkness, he found himself staring onto nothing. He gasped. Air rushed into his lung, mouldy and cold. His heart was pounding, like loud thunder against his chest. It was almost as if a hypodermic of adrenaline had been emptied into his bloodstream. 

Abruptly, he tried to get up from the bed. His naked feet placed upon the cold concrete floor. However, his treacherous legs gave away to gravity as he tumbled his way down, with a blanket tangled between his ankles. 

Wincing in pain, he once again forced his shaky knees to bear the brunt of his weight as he tried to stand up. The remnants of the nightmare still clung to him, just like the sweat-soaked tunic that stuck to his naked skin. The taste of sea salt lingered on his cracked lips, just like the scent of blood that still filled his nostrils. The pain was still present, although much subdued, the dull ache was a constant reminder of the lashes that tore apart his fragile skin brutally again, again, and again.

As if chased by demons, Yuzuru ran. Or at least he tried to, as he placed his shaky palm against the wall, elevating some of the pressure from his useless legs. Still, he moved forward.

In the darkness, he found a door. He flung it open, only to find himself in another room. The scent hit him first - musky and decaying. The air was so suffocating that he gagged. 

His traitorous knees gave out once again, as he found himself collapsing against a wall, with the entire universe spinning before his eyes. Eventually, the blurriness faded as his eyes adjusted. Then his surrounding came into focus. 

Men and women were everywhere, on and off every available surface. Naked bodies collided and intertwined in the oldest form of dance known to men. There were a few curtains draped here and there, providing thinly veiled privacy. But everything was essentially laid out, wanton and unbashful, for all to see.

Feral grunts, high pitched moans and fervent cries, Yuzuru could hardly distinguish them from the sound of flesh pounding against flesh. Then the hands came for him, as loud breathings that stunk of alcohol forced their ways into his ears. They tore his clothes apart, as lips and teeth sought for his naked skin, the rough patches of moustache painfully grating on his neck. 

Nausea came to him at full force. He gagged and yet there was nothing to bring up as he dry-heaved. Apparently, it was enough to deter his assailant, as that man pushed him away in disgust, and sought for a more willing body elsewhere. 

Yuzuru forced himself to get up, knowing he had to get out of here. He lurched forward, trying to find his way out in this maze made of naked bodies that were mindlessly lost in pleasure. Inevitably, with his eyes trailing down, he found himself gazing into a few pairs of soulless eyes. So dead and cold as they gazed upward to nothing, Yuzuru almost mistook their owners for corpses if not for the faint movement of their chests. Shocked, he hurriedly looked away. 

Finally, he made it to the other end of the room, to another door. He pushed it open. Sunlight flashed onto his eyes, almost blinding him. He was in the darkness for too long, after all. He raised his hands high, trying to shield himself from the blinding brightness, as well as the frigid wind that wrapped around him like an icy shawl.

Soon his eyesight adjusted. He was thankful that the winter sun was dull behind the gathering clouds. The snow seemed to have ceased for the day. The road beneath him was wet and muddy, where it started to melt. Rough slates peaked though the not so pristine slush. Cracks and potholes littered throughout them, created by countless years of traffic made by men, women, carts, wagons, and various animals. Buildings that lined each side of the narrow street were just as equally derelict with crumbling mortar and bricks. Those grimy roofs were supported by broken tiles, chipped away walls that were marred further by peeled off paint. The windows and doors creaked loudly whenever a strong gust of wind blew by. 

Yuzuru floundered his way forward, even though his legs felt like being shackled down with heavy stones. The biting cold chilled all his limps into clumsy numbness. Cold seeped into his naked soles and toes, spreading painfully throughout his legs. 

His body took on a sickly blue hue in no time as his teeth s ceaselessly. But he ignored it, knowing this was the only chance he had to get away. He didn't know for sure where he was, but it was clear as daylight that he was no longer on The Wanderer, judging by the solid ground beneath his feet. St. Petersburg perhaps, considering the ship's destination, where a lifetime of sexual servitude waited for him. He knew it was virtually suicidal to be out in weather like this, dressed in nothing but a thin tunic and a pair of pants, but he had to take his chance.

The people who were out and about all wore layered clothes made of soiled fabrics and patches of animal skins. Their face haggard and worn out. The language they spoke was rushed and foreign to his ears. It was definitely not the Common Tongue.

They gave him a wide berth, barely sparing him another glance beyond that. He supposed people like him were not a rare sight in an area like this. The only person who paid him any attention at all was the body collector who roamed the street as he collected the homeless who didn't make it through the night. That elderly man ran his assessing looks over Yuzuru before he lowered his back to fling yet another rigid corpse onto his cart, adding to the ever-growing pile of bodies. Probably wondering when he would need this service as well, Yuzuru thought, as hysteria bubbled in his throat. 

And yet, he stubbornly made his way forward. The frigid air penetrated his skin, chilling his blood, sinking into the marrow of his bones like ice. The last of his awareness was hanging by a thin thread, and yet he still understood that he must keep moving no matter what. One foot at the front of another, again, again and again, to keep his heart beating so it could continue to pump blood throughout his body. The moment he stopped, he would become the new addition to a mass grave somewhere, adding onto an ever-growing pile of corpses. 

He had no idea how far he made when he was stopped. A warm blanket was wrapped around his entire upper body, shielding him from some of the chilly wind. Yuzuru's steps halted. He raised his head, his eyes wide and panicked, thinking he had been caught. Against the dull glow of the sun, a halo made of various shades of the rainbow, he saw an outline of a person that was distinctively familiar. The soft dark brown curls that his fingers had threaded through countless times, the handsome cheekbones that he had traced with his own lips until they imprinted into his brain, and those eyes that had always reminded him of soil in spring after the snow had melted away, so full of life and love. 

So he smiled. Like a tightened string that had finally been released, he collapsed against the older man, knowing he was safe now.

"Javi..." He whispered. If this were a fervent dream, he would rather take his last breath while still in it, "You are here! For me?"

"Come with me," Instead of answering him, Javier gently coaxed him in Japanese, "Everything will be alright, trust me." 

His voice was so familiarly kind and loving. Those eyes looked at the younger man as if he was the most precious thing in all realms. There wasn't even a hint of the coldness and distance that Yuzuru had grown used to in the last few weeks that they had been together.

So he did, his body soft and pliant as he mirrored that gentle smile. It was the most natural thing to do, placing his trust in the man that he loved. In his delirious state, He didn't even question how the Spaniard became so fluent in Japanese. 

He had questions, so many of them, but his brain was a shamble, his teeth clung so hard that they struggled to form words. Javier didn't seem to mind, though. The older man filled the short journey with idle chatters, as he had one of his arms underneath Yuzuru's, and the other around his shoulder, taking on most of his body weight. 

The Prince talked about the hot bath he had drawn for him. The chicken soup he had on the stove since this morning - a hearty meal made with tender, potatoes, sautéed vegetables, and homemade noodles. Yuzuru's stomach growled painfully, as saliva filled his mouth. It was as if his entire body had come alive; all senses and needs reawaken and amplified. 

The presence of the man he loved, the promise of warmth, combined with the allure of a full belly were so powerful that he didn't even notice he was being led back to the house that he ran away from. 

Until the door was firmly slammed shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Russia!   
And since everyone misses Javi 😉


	40. Chapter 40

Yuzuru didn't get the hot bath he was promised. At least, not initially. 

By the time he and Javi made it back to the house, hypothermia had long kicked in. The Japanese was trembling uncontrollably as his body made one last-ditch effort to maintain his core temperature. His mind was nothing but a blank canvas. 

The other man gently coaxed Yuzuru to a chair, before undressing him. The tattered tunic & snow soaked pants were removed first, and then dry towels were used to pat him dry, before layers of blankets covered every inch of his body, leaving only his face exposed for air. It was a much safer way of gently waking up a body that had gone into shock, as direct heat could cause damage to the skin or, even worse, cause potentially fatal irregular heartbeats.

Even the spicy and sweet aroma of sbiten* failed to elicit a reaction from the Japanese. The other man literally had to pry Yuzuru's rigid fingers open before shoving a cup of the hot beverage into his hands. As if startled by the heated sensation on his palm, Yuzuru lifted his head. The aroma of spices and sweetness filled his nostrils as steam raised from the mug. He looked at the unfamiliar face at the front of him. Confusion filled his head as his heart sank.

"Ja... Javi...?"

The man standing before him was younger, only in his early 20 or late teens. He had dark brown hair, in a shade that was similar to Javier's under the candlelight but lacked the curls. Comparing to Javier's striking features that turned heads wherever he went, the man before him was relatively unremarkable-looking at first glance. And yet, there was something about him beneath that seemingly ordinary exterior that lured lingering gazes. Perhaps it was his disarming smile. It was so warm like the summer sun. 

"The cold weather plays with the minds at times, showing us things what we desperately want to see," His tone was soft and almost apologetic, "When I was 5 I near lost my life in a blizzard. I thought I saw my father whom I never met, coming for me and carrying me to safety. For all I knew, that bastard was probably somewhere across the ocean, enjoying a hearty meal with his new family."

Yuzuru smiled bitterly. So it was a fervent dream, after all. His eyes moistened. It barely lasted a second though, before he blinked the tears away. Sentiment was a luxury reserved for long insomniac nights. He schooled his expression. His weakness was well hidden behind his newly formed mask. He couldn't afford to show a hint of it, not when he didn't know the first thing about the opponent standing before him. 

He lifted the hot mug between his lips. The spiciness of the clove, cinnamon and ginger coupled with the calories from the blackberry jam invigorated him. He looked at the other man and murmured his thanks, as some colour returned to his cheeks. The older man sighed in relief. After all, it wasn't in his best interest for his merchandise to perish before making him any money.

Misha Ge**, as he introduced himself, was a self-proclaimed entrepreneur in one of the notorious red-light district of St. Petersburg. He was one of the few who were able to escape the shackle that was their upbringing, as Yuzuru later found out. His mother, a young girl at the time, had an enthusiastic heart that was unconstrained by the shabby neighbourhood that she grew up in. Unfortunately, her naivety made her an easy target for a visiting Chinese sailor who easily charmed her maiden heart with his wild tales of adventure and vast fortune in another land. She quickly found herself pregnant with his child, and this exciting news only led to her lover's abrupt departure with a few coins being left on her bedside table. And she was so blinded by her love and her hope for a better life that she was convinced that her man would come back for her even years later. Condemned and ruined, she ultimately conceded to her fate and took upon the oldest trade known to men to raise her child. As a sharp contrast to her, instead of submitting to his fate as she did, Misha used every resource at his disposal and built a better life for himself. 

As the proud owner of The Pleasure Dungeon, one of the famous brothels on the south side of St Petersburg, the 21-year-old was far from the youth who made a bag of silver through his debut night in the flesh business - a price virtually unheard of for a son of a common prostitute. Barely 15 at the time, yet he skillfully played two wealthy businessmen against one another, taking their rivalries to the bedroom, and walked with the big prize and a reputation that garnered more customers in the months to come. 

He quickly shed that part of his life like a snake shedding its skin, once outgrowing it. He had made enough money to purchase a few sex slaves and started his own brothel. His well-connected patrons and coins paved the way for the necessary paperwork and license. Again, it was another feat virtually unheard of for someone so young. His business that profited on sexual pleasure took off after that. Fluent in numerous languages, including Mandarin, English and Japanese, his establishment quickly flourished in this port city. 

Now, his ambition had led him to look beyond that tiny rundown district he was born into, "I'm looking to expand my clientele. The very high-end kind."

By high-end, he meant the Russian court kind, where gold flew freely just like wine. And more importantly, it was filled with people who could make or break others with the snap of a finger. And he has his eyes on that place, like a child who was at the door of a fancy candy store. All he needed was a tool to pry that door open.

"And you believe I could do that for you?"Yuzuru looked at the Russian incredulously, pausing between his mouthful of the chicken soup.

"I knew you were the one when I first laid my eyes on you, "Misha said, reminiscing the bloody form that laid on the muddy ground of the auction house, wounds infected, and barely breathing. Most people got turned away after hearing about the adventure this particular slave had on The Wonderer, despite the low asking price. No one wanted a trouble maker, after all. But Misha didn't. He bent down, so his fingers could wipe enough grim from that face, revealing the delicate and exotic beauty hidden beneath it. And his eyes lit up, "And I believe the Russian court is tired of all the timid and submissive beauties that paraded through its halls. It's time for someone a little... different."

"And do I have any say in this at all?" Yuzuru asked. He was bone-weary of being a chess piece under another master. 

"Of course! If I were looking for an obedient slave, I would have picked someone less wilful. I'm after a business partner in a mutually beneficial arrangement. Think of your options. I'll give you time, my dear friend," Misha replied, as he gently patted Yuzuru on his shoulder like a friend. Then he urged him to have another bowl of the hot soup, "Eat up, you are much too thin."

Yuzuru knew it was. A long voyage over the ocean would do that to anyone. But it wasn't until he found himself at the front of a mirror that he realised he was a mere shadow of his formal self. His face was emaciated with grotesque cheekbones. His hair had long lost its lustre. It was dull and lifeless like dry stalks of straws. Underneath the layers of knits and cloak, he was nothing but paper-thin skin stretched over a skeleton. He could practically count all his bones on his body, with most of them protruding out. 

He turned his head so that he could see his back. The pain had long subsided to a dull ache, leaving behind an ugly patchwork of protruding scars. He ran his finger over their ridges, feeling the jagged edges as his brain remembered the feeling of the cat-o'nine-tails taking away layers of his skin and flesh and winced. A harsh reminder that he must choose wisely this time.

True to his words, Misha gave Yuzuru time to make up his mind. He never tried to confine Yuzuru behind locked doors. All he asked of the Japanese was to help out in the brothel, as payment for his food and lodging. 

Yuzuru agreed. So he put on a hood over his head, obscuring himself as he moved within that darkened room, taking care of the prostitutes in any way he could. He heated up buckets of water and wiped down their cum stained thighs with hot water and clean cloth so they would be "pristine" again for their next customers. Half of them were high on various drugs and alcohol, eyes dulled with delirium. He had to force stews and water down their throats, getting some substance through those colourless lips so they could survive another day. 

Yuzuru must have done an appalling job of hiding his horror that Misha paused in counting his profit for the day, with stacks and stacks of coins at the front of him. 

"I'm not a cruel master, you know," He said as he eyed his properties, all those twig thin bodies with cheekbones jutting out through the pallid skin, "I make things a little more bearable for those who fail to adapt to this kind of life."

Yuzuru chose to remain silent. He wordlessly made his way out of the room, taking the food bucket and water jar with him.

The Japanese recognised what Misha was doing by making him work here - showing him where the alternative path would take him should he refused his proposal. How very subtle of him. 

The Japanese had thought long and hard about the options he had, but each one was bleaker than the last. The prospect of becoming one of the sex slaves here, a mindless and thoughtless vassal that sole existence was to fulfil other's desires until he took his last breath was terrifying. 

Yuzuru knew what he needed to do ultimately - to ensure Akiko, his unborn child and his mother's safety. And to do so, he would need to get in touch with Akihisa Nagashima who was still posted in Canada, for all his knew. They were most likely safe in the short term, giving him time to work out his plan. After all, after Empress Hashimoto learnt of his "death", his child would become the only living person carrying the Hanyu blood, which she was keen to preserve. And knowing her and her tendency to exploit human connections, Akiko and Yumi would likely to be kept alive also, to be used as leverage to control his child. 

The Japanese knew he had to make his way back to Canada, despite the risk of exposing himself. But how? It wasn't difficult for him to escape from the Pleasure Dungeon since Misha never restricted his freedom. He was able to come and go as he pleased. Money would be an issue, but certainly not the biggest one.

There had been plenty of opportunities for him to secretly make some before taking his leave. There were always customers who were willing to slide a few coins into his pocket for a quickie at the back alley. Unfortunately, even if he made enough money to get back to Canada, with his magic constrained, he no longer had any mean of control over Akihisa, forcing him to do his bidding.

Ultimately, he needed leverage - either enough money to satisfy that man's greed, or having his magic unleased to intimidate him into submission, or being backed by a man or woman who had enough political power to bring him to his knees. At that moment, he had none of the three. 

So in the end, he conceded. And this time, it was out of his own free well. He went all in, putting down his own life on the gambling table as ante.

Misha looked rather pleased, "I knew you would see my way. After all, we are so similar in many aspects." 

Yuzuru supposed they were. Just like Misha, he wasn't quite ready to follow the path that fate had lied out at the front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note: 
> 
> Sbiten (сбитень)*: a hot winter Russian traditional drink. It has a dark purple appearance and, depending on the recipe, can be very spicy and/or very sweet.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Misha Ge**: an Uzbek figure skater of Russian, Chinese, and Korean descent, who was born in Moscow. He is the 2017 Internationaux de France bronze medallist. In addition to this, he has won nine international medals and four Uzbekistan national titles. He has finished in the top-ten at six ISU Championships, including two World Championships (2015 and 2018). He competed at the 2014 Winter Olympics and the 2018 Winter Olympics, finishing 17th in both competitions. He is multilingual, including Russian, Mandarin, and English.


	41. Chapter 41

As it turned out, Misha had everything mapped out. And all Yuzuru had to do was to adhere to his master plan. So for next two months, the Japanese grappled to gain some competency in the Russian language, as he struggled to make sense of consonant phonemes with palatal secondary articulation and those without, the so-called soft and hard sounds, amongst others. It was a difficult langue to master in such a short period of time with its complex grammar structure. But Misha wasn't too concerned, calling such shortfall "only adding to his exotic beauty".

During this time, Yuzuru was getting a crash course on Russian history and the current political dynamics. 

Russia, one of the few transcontinental realms located on both Eastern Europe and Northern Asia, spaned over one-eighth of the world's inhabited land area. It was one of the few realms that recognised both God of West and God of East as their national religion. It was said that the men and women who were granted the right to seat on the Russian throne were to be feared and revered because they were blessed by both Gods who reigned over the entire world. 

At the age of 16, His Imperial Majesty The Lord Emperor and Autocrat of All Russia Evgeni Plushenko* took over the throne. At the time, the country was in political upheaval amidst a civil war. All three sons of the late Tsar - Alexei Yagudin**, Evgeni Plushenko and Maxim Kovtun***, were eager to seize power. Ultimately, Tsar Plushenko emerged as the winner after he managed to secure the support from Marquise Eteri Tutberidze**** who held Russia's purse strings; and Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova***** who held sway over the Russian royalties and prominent figures. 

As winter approached, General Alexei Mishin****** who controlled the majority of Russian military ultimately bowed his head after Marquise Tutberidze found ways to cut all his fundings. He hardly could afford to have a coup within his troops, an opportunity for another to overtake his position. After all, the soldiers needed to be fed and paid for them to remain loyal. 

Grand Duke Alexei Yagudin after losing support from General Mishin, saw his incoming defeat. So he wisely bowed his proud head and pledged his loyalty to his younger brother. Whether his humble words reflected his heart was anyone's guess. 

Grand Duke Maxim Kovtun, at the age of three was nothing more than a puppet in the hand of Duchess Elena Vodorezova******* who was overtaken by her own greed for power, refused to. He and his supporters fought to the end until their own soldiers turned on them. Both of them were captured on a bitter winter morning, and taken to the Tsar in their pleading for leniency for themselves. The puppeteer behind the young Grand Duke was promptly executed. Grand Duke Kovtun was pardoned, given his age. He had since disappeared from the public eyes. The official story was that he had retired to his residence in the countryside, recuperating from a severe illness under the Tsar's mercy and care. 

Peace was finally bestowed on this land after years of bloodshed, where rivers and mountains were stained red. At least it did on the domestic front. For the next fifteen years, both God of West and God of East stood behind their chosen Tsar and blessed this vast land with prosperity and abundance of natural and magical resources. However, as Russia gained both economic and military power, tension had started to rise with another superpower in a land that was far away - America. Speculations ran wild both inside and outside of the court. Everyone had their own view and theory about what it could lead to.

Yuzuru absorbed the culture and history of Russia like a dry sponge soaking up water in those months. It took almost as long to erase all the marks left on him from his journey across the ocean on The Wanderer. A high courtesan must be flawless in every way to attract wandering eyes. The dull, straw-like hair was trimmed and then revitalised by a blend of fine oils. His rough skin invigorated with honey and milk bath every day; all the dead skin cell exfoliated until the smooth skin beneath was revealed. Food was plenty and nutrient-rich, hoping to make up the weight he had lost quickly. 

Yuzuru danced frequently, toning the muscles that he had slowly gained back into graceful lines that were pleasing to the eyes. His movement was hesitant and unsure at first. The body that had grown accustomed to long hours of labour had forgotten about agility and gracefulness, as evident by his clumsy movements. He could almost feel Johnny's heated gaze burning holes onto his back, his eyes rolling not so elegantly in disapproval. Gradually, he improved, in an agonising slowness that tested his patience. Eventually, his body did remember, like being awakened from a long slumber.

The rigid scars on Yuzuru's back, however, were the real issue. 

Yuzuru froze the first time he saw himself in the mirror, as his turned his body to get a glimpse of his back. His breath halted at that moment. He clenched his fingers so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. One after another, like snakes slithering down his body, they were odd mixtures of dull brown, bright white and light pink. Each of them was a stark reminder of his failures and mistakes. He looked away in disgust and an equal amount of shame.

Misha, seeing his distraught, just gently patted on his back and gave him another one of his trademark smiles, "Not to worry, we will get you fixed."

His solution was an elderly man named Frank Carroll********, an unlicensed doctor who practised in the neighbourhood, catering to those who couldn't afford proper care.

Misha hugged him with like an old friend, and Frank offered warm pleasantries with just as much enthusiasm. The Russian plied the elderly man with a lot of food and wine. By the time dinner was over, Frank was tipsy, his Russian thick with an even stronger American accent.

Yuzuru observed him curiously. An American in Russia was a rare sight because it came with the risk of being branded as a spy. Not that the people here cared. Daily survival far outweighed politics. Every family or business here had the elderly and the sick who needed help. And they thank his service by giving him coins and keep their own mouths shut.

Frank produced an ointment made of a mixture of leaves, roots and mud from his medical bag. It was dark brown and smelled just as unpleasant as it looked. Yuzuru eyed it suspiciously at first before he felt it - the unique pulse of magic. It was very faint, but definitely there. His eyebrows raised high as he eyed the elderly man.

A magic practitioner who specialised in healing. One who hid his magic trait with a powerful charm or amulet to avoid detection. How curious. Yuzuru supposed being American and magical would be a deadly combination in the land of Russia, given the current political climate between the countries.

Seeing the surprise in his eyes, Frank was just as equally startled. After all, magic traits could only be detected by someone of the same nature, unless special tools were employed. Then his gaze landed on the thin collar that was secured around Yuzuru's neck, and understanding dawned on him. Their eyes met. An agreement was reached in that split second - each of them would keep his own mouth shut, in exchange for the other's silence. 

Due to the low dose of magic, it took a while for the ointment to work, but it did, ultimately. At the end of the second month, Yuzuru's back was pristine. Once again, he stood before the mirror as he ran his gaze over himself, and this time the reflection showed him his flawless skin that shimmered once again like the finest sateen.

His fingers glided over the luxurious silk gown that was laid out for him, and the delicate jewels that he was to adorn himself with. In a moment like this, it was almost like the past a few months was erased from existence. He was still in the Fernández House, with the man he had fallen love with only steps away. Any second now, he could come forward, telling him how beautiful and precious he was, as those gentle hands roamed across his naked skin.

When he felt a hand gently grabbing on his shoulder, joy filled his heart. It was a warmth that he hadn't felt for a very long time, "Javi-"

He turned around, only to find Misha looking at him, with those eyes that were in near-identical shade. But they were not Javier's. These would never be filled with love or affection that he craved like a sunflower longed for the sun. His breath hitched as his cheeks reddened. His illusion burst like a soap bubble made by a child. How humiliating.

How had he ever mistaken them for one and the same? Misha was kind, but his friendship was motivated by self-interest. He was generous, but that benevolence was underpinned by self-gain. Not that he could fault the Russian in any way. He wasn't a philanthropist after all.

Misha was courteous enough not to comment. Instead, he helped the Japanese to get dressed. The silk gown covered his naked body. It was in a shade of light blue, decorated with embroideries at the hem and the sleeves. Next, a comb made its way to Yuzuru's long hair, brushing out all the knots and kinks, before these talented hands braided and knotted them into an elaborate low ponytail. Lastly, he finished the look with gold hairpieces embellished with sapphire stones that matched the gown. It contrasted sharply against Yuzuru's midnight black hair. Then he stood back and examined the masterful work he had done before he hummed in satisfaction.

Yuzuru took a look at himself in the mirror. He was, indeed, looking beautiful. All the investment the older man had put in must have costed most of his savings, including the bribe he must have paid to pave the way for them to be where they would be shortly. Both of them were gamblers. He could only pray that their daringness paid off in the end.

The older man unrolled a scroll he had in hand, It was Yuzuru's slave deed, under a false name - Yuzuru Sato. It was unsurprising that the Crown Prince of Canada had gone through the trouble of building a false identity for him, in order to erase his presence in this world. Misha then lit it on fire with the nearest candle. Watching as it engulfed by the flame, Yuzuru was astounded. This man had essentially given back his status as a free man. 

"As I said before, I want us to be equal partners in this. Despite our different interests, our goals are aligned, "Misha smiled as he dropped it to the nearby bucket. The flame continued to curl around that fragile piece of paper, until there was nothing but ashes left.

It did take a second, but Yuzuru had no trouble seen through this grand gesture precisely as what it was: an act to win over his trust or to make him feel indebted. That man was always so skilful at playing with human hearts. And yet, he didn't resent it. After all, Misha wasn't trying so hard to hide his true intentions, and it was refreshing for Yuzuru who was used to deceit and betrayal by now. 

Then the Russian poured each of them a shot of vodka, well chilled and straight, before he raised his glass, "A toast to our future success." 

The older man downed it in one gulp, and Yuzuru followed suit. The colourless liquid almost tasted of nothing, other than just a slight hint of grain. It went down smoothly at first, then he felt the burning sensation that started on his tongue, then travelled all the way down to his oesophagus before reaching his stomach.

He had one last chance glancing at the mirror before they departed for their destination. On the smooth surface illuminated by candlelight, his dark eyes had taken on an even more intense shade of black. 

He was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Evgeni Plushenko*: a retired Russian figure skater. He is a four-time Olympic medalist, a three-time World champion, a seven-time European champion, a four-time Grand Prix Final champion, and a ten-time Russian national champion. Plushenko has a well-known rivalry with Alexei Yagudin, with whom he trained under Alexei Mishin until Yagudin left in 1998. In the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, Canada, Plushenko won the silver medal despite landing a quadruple toe loop-triple toe loop combination in the free skate and lost to Evan Lysacek from America who had no quad. It sparked a lot of debate regarding the judging system and quad in the sport.
> 
> Alexei Yagudin**: a retired Russian figure skater. He is the 2002 Olympic champion, a four-time World champion, a three-time European champion, a two-time Grand Prix Final champion, the 1996 World Junior champion, and a two-time World Professional champion. He is the only skater (all disciplines included) to have achieved a Golden Slam, a victory in all major championships (Olympic Games, World Championships, European Championships, Grand Prix assignments, Grand Prix Final) in the same season (2001-2002). He trained under Alexei Mishin with his rival Evgeni Plushenko until 19982. Then he joined Tatiana Tarasova, who coached him until his retirement in 2003.
> 
> Maxim Kovtun***: a retired Russian figure skater. He is a three-time European medalist and four-time Russian national champion. On the junior level, he is the 2012 JGP Final champion. At the 2014 Russian Championships, he placed second in the short program and first in the free skate. He won the gold medal ahead of three-time Olympic medalist Evgeni Plushenko. Unfortunately, after he placed fifth at the European Championships, Russia's sole spot in the men's event at the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi was assigned to Evgeni Plushenko. On 23 April 2019, Kovtun announced his retirement from competition.
> 
> Eteri Tutberidze****: a Russian figure skating coach who works mainly with single skaters. She is the head coach at the Sambo 70 skating club in Moscow. She has coached many skaters to success in international competitions, including Olympic and World Champion Alina Zagitova, two-time World champion Evgenia Medvedeva, and team Olympic Champion Yulia Lipnitskaya.
> 
> Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova*****: a Russian figure skating coach and national figure skating team adviser. She has coached more world and Olympic champions than any other coach in skating history. Her students have won a total of eight Olympic gold medals in three of the four Olympic figure skating disciplines, in addition to 41 gold medals at the European and World championships. Her students included Mao Asada, Shizuka Arakawa, Maxim Kovtun, Alexei Yagudin etc.
> 
> Alexei Mishin******: a Russian figure skating coach and former pair skater. With partner Tamara Moskvina, he is the 1969 World silver medalist and Soviet national champion. He is based in Saint Petersburg at Yubileyny Sports Palace. His current and former students include Olympic champions Alexei Urmanov, Alexei Yagudin, and Evgeni Plushenko.
> 
> Elena Vodorezova*******: a Russian figure skating coach and retired competitive skater who represented the Soviet Union. She is the 1983 World bronze medalist and three-time European medalist. Her students included Maxim Kovtun, Brendan Kerry etc.
> 
> Frank Carroll********: an American figure skating coach and former competitive skater. He has coached three skaters to win the World Figure Skating Championships: Linda Fratianne, Michelle Kwan, and Evan Lysacek. He has been inducted into the World Figure Skating Hall of Fame, the United States Figure Skating Hall of Fame, the Professional Skaters Association Coaches Hall of Fame, and was the 1997 Olympic Coach of the Year. He used to be one of Misha Ge's coaches.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Sorry for introducing all these characters at once. I need to have all the major players in this part of the story on the table now.
> 
> For Yuzur's sake, let's pretend he has some tolerance toward alcohol 😅


	42. Chapter 42

Upon meeting Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova for the first time, most people would be rather taken back. One of the most powerful women in Russia often reminded them of their grandmother, with her plump figure, warm smile, short curly blond hair that had mostly faded into various shades of silvery grey. Don't get me wrong. She could be stern at times, even a little judgmental when she was critical. But she would also be the one to hand you a pirozhki* behind your parents' back, even if it might ruin your appetite for dinner.

Just like they would to their kind grandmothers, people flocked to her with their problems. And whatever mess they managed to get themselves into, she always had ways to untangle it for them. All she ever asked for was their friendship, and perhaps a favour being returned at a later date. 

In all her years at the Russian Imperial court, she had made many friends and formed many alliances. Those were many important connections built from years of careful cultivation. But there were only a few being considered in her inner circle. As her nephew, Baron Nikolai Morozov** with his intelligence and charm easily claimed a spot for himself. Classically handsome with dark eyes and sleeked back dark hair, he quickly garnered good impressions from people he dealt with, but not too good looking to evoke a feeling of hostility. 

Twice a week, it was his duty to update his aunt on everything that was deemed significant enough to warrant her attention. And in turn, Tatiana would provide him with instructions for him to follow through. Essentially, he was in the privileged position to act as a filter on who and what would get to her ears. At the age of 37, he might not have an impressive title or possessed a considerable amount of land or serfs yet, but he certainly already wielded significant influence, one that he was eager to exploit further.

"Dimitri Ivanov, the firstborn to the House of Ivanov, has found himself in a bit of... predicament." 

Tarasova smirked knowingly, "It certainly seemed to be the case."

Although it was hardly unusual for nobles or people with means to engage in carnal pleasures outside of marriages, timing and discretion were both considered to be of vital importance. It was undoubtedly a very unwise move for someone who was about to marry a Tutberidze, to embarrass both families by impregnating a very vocal and very daring courtesan, who was very willing to air all his dirty laundry for the entire Imperial Court to see if he refused to marry her instead. A scandal like this would not be looked upon kindly by the Tutberidzes. Not to mention, there was the real possibility of Dimitri being removed from the direct line of succession. After all, he had plenty of siblings who also had their eyes set on their father's title and the inheritance that came with it.

"He failed to make her go away after offering her money. Now he has come begging for our help." Nikolai continued.

"Of course we will help to get him out of this little mess," Tatiana chuckled, "And we will get a 'friend' in the Tutberidze family in return."

Trapping Dimitri Ivanov was very easy. He had a type - fierce and passionate brunettes with green eyes, so Nikolai found a skilled seductress who fit the bill perfectly and organised a "chance encounter" at one of the upper society balls. As they expected, the flame was kindled in no time, and Dimitri failed to keep it in his pants for long. Unfortunately, that fierceness he adored so much worked equally well against him. This was the speciality of the House of Tarasova - secretly creating problems that only they could fix in exchange for gratitude and friendship. And Tatiana was a master at this game. 

"And your wish is my command," Nikolai replied with a bow. 

Tatiana's lips curled in satisfaction, "And His Imperial Majesty's wedding anniversary gift?"

"I will make sure a perfect one is found," Nikolai mirrored her smirk. 

Tatiana nodded but didn't dwell on the topic any further. Her nephew was more than capable of taking care of such minor matters. There were much more pressing issues after all, "And the other task?"

Nikolai schooled his expression solemnly, knowing how much it meant for his aunt. Unfortunately, he didn't have any more than usual to offer on that front, "Forgive me, Aunt Tatiana. We are still scouting for high or unusual magical signatures, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I ask for more time."

Tatiana sighed, disappointed. It had been well over 150 years since the God of East last blessed their presence on this world, and no one knew what had happened. There had been speculations, of course, scrolls written by scholars and story told through generations of storytellers, but none of them held much credibility after a little scrutiny. 

True seers, not the ones who made fools of themselves at parties and carnivals, were far and few in the recorded history. A long time ago, there was such one born within the Tarasova family, who predicted the disappearance of the God of East, and the growing imbalance as a result of God of West gaining more influence. It had sparked worries and concerns amongst the senior members of the Tarasova family, as their entire house was dedicated followers of Temple of East. However, she also prophesied that the God of East would grace the realms once again. And when the time finally came, they would make a mortal child their host, feasting on their magic to restore themselves, until they were ready to let their presence be seen by the world once again. And those who remained loyal to the end and sought for their presence would be greatly rewarded. Since then, it had been the Tarasova family's quest for generations, to bring back their God ever since the first part of the prophecy had come true.

With such little clue, it was difficult to conduct a search. Nonetheless, it was task being passed down from one head of the Tarasova family to the next. All they knew was that the child must have been powerful in their own rights in order to sustain such a mighty entity, and surely, such strong magic signature would be detected. So the Tarasovas scouted, for strong magical forces and peculiar tales involving magic. 

Their best bet so far had been Yuzuru Hanyu, the last of the great Hanyu bloodline, who was the centre of the mysterious death of his classmates. They placed him under surveillance, with regular updates being sent to Tatiana. Upon considerations, she had commanded no action to be taken until they were absolutely sure, given his association with Japan, Canada and Spain. Not to mention, any hastiness could bring danger to that boy. After all, there were many followers of the God of West in this world, who were very keen to see the God of East staying away. Unfortunately, nothing they did managed to prevent the boy from falling to his fate, losing his life in a fire. Since then, they started their search anew, looking for signs that their God had taken on a new host. Nothing was too small to overlook. But the world was a vast place, with magical population scattered across it, amongst the non-magical ones.

The disappearance of the God of East brought on consequences. Apart from the dwindling of the Temple of East and its sphere of influence, the balance in this world had been tipped. It was most evident in the realms that fell under the God of East's reign - their diminishing natural resources and magic, the declining magical population, just to name a few. There had been realms, such as Japan, where people with magic traits hadn't been born for the last 150 years. 

Even in Russia, it affected families that worshipped the God of East. In the Tarasova bloodline, the ones with magic traits were few and far between, diminishing to only one or two each generation now. It effectively forced them to look at alternatives in establishing power, since force wasn't an option any more. Even Tatiana herself wasn't magical, a great disappointment to her father. However, she had more than proven herself by taking her family to the greatest height that they had ever seen. Cunning, wit, the ability to predict and manipulate had proven to be just as powerful as magical forces.

Regardless, Tatiana and her entire House were keen to see the balance of power being restored in Russia. Families who worshipped the God of West such as the Tutberidzes had been dominating in this land for too long. An issue she must rectify.

"Look harder then. However, practice discretion. It is vital." She commanded. They couldn't afford to make a mistake the second time.

"Of course," Nikolai bowed his head in reverence, before taking his leave.

\--------------------------------------------------

It was hardly surprising to Yuzuru that he didn't get to meet Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova. After all, she was a woman of high status, and surely, someone like her had more important tasks in her hands than picking a lover for the Tsar. But judging from the poorly concealed disappointment on some faces, it wasn't the case for most of his rivals competing for the same role. 

There were 20 of them initially, standing on the hall of the private residence of Baron Nikolai Morozov, a trusted advisor to the Duchess Tarasova. He was to be the judge who would hold the key to their futures. So they all plastered on their best smiles that aimed to please. 

Half of them were dismissed straight away, citing as not up to standard. They would be assigned to other tasks, it was said. Perhaps as lovers or pet for lower nobles and other members of the court. 

The remaining ones underwent strict physical examinations, which entailed having them stripped bare before Nikolai so he could run his eyes and his hands on each of them. Those cold fingers threaded through their hair to get a feel of their texture, his hands glided down their skin so see if they were silky and smooth, his hands lingered on their chests, inner thighs, and buttocks to see if they were firm and supple. Despite the liquid courage that was coursing through his veins, Yuzuru trembled beneath the forceful gaze that zoomed on him. Still unable to stand the touch of another man, he cursed at himself. "Only when it wasn't your dearest Javi," His inner voice, which sounded suspiciously like Axel jeered at him. And he firmly pushed it to the back of his head.

To his relief, he was one of the two who made it to the next round. And if the older man's gaze lingered on him a lot longer than strictly necessary, he tried to shrug it off. There would be many more pair of eyes on him in the near future, amongst other not so pleasant things, and he better learn to get used to it now.

Nikolai called it a night, then the two of them were sent to separate rooms to rest. For the next ten days or so, they were to be tested for their ability to please and pleasure, their interpersonal skills, and any special talent they might have. 

It was rather obvious that Florent Amodio***, the other contender for the same position, disliked Yuzuru from the beginning. The French beauty with dark skin and deep-set features, was stunning as he was irritatingly arrogant. Despite being the third son from a line of fallen French nobility and would never be in line for the title or whatever meagre coins that were left, he certainly enjoyed taunting the Japanese with his much more prestigious upbringing.

"Imagine a whore walking down the hallways of the Imperial Palace," He would loudly snigger whenever he brushed past Yuzuru, "What a laughing stock."

Or his taunting smirk which never failed to make an appearance whenever Yuzuru made a mistake with his still shaky Russian. In his perfect Russian, apart from that hint of an elegant French accent, Florent would scoff, "What do you expect from an uneducated commoner." 

"When are you sending that whore away?" The French beauty asked after he pulled his mouth away from a softened cock with an obscene slurp. He darted out his tongue, greedily running it across his cum stained lips like he couldn't get enough of it. 

Nikolai groaned, feeling his cock twitching with renewed interest, and inwardly cursed the refractory period. He knew that little slut was putting on a show, but still, his ego was stroked so skillfully, "Not to worry, my darling, that boy has nothing over you."

Florent hummed in dissatisfaction, his pretty mouth pouted. 

Nikolai's hands cupped that unhappy face between his palms, and placated, "I was asked to put together a contest, and I have to put in some effort to make sure there appears to be one."

The boy sharply turned away in response. In a child-like tantrum, he refused to speak the older man. It wasn't until Nikolai placed a diamond bangle on his wrist that his angry face broke into a smile. He raised his hand, admiring the sparkling treasure that was now his, with his unhappiness temporarily forgotten. 

"Don't worry, my precious. You will soon find yourself sharing a bed with His Imperial Majesty." Nikolai patted his head soothingly. If only that boy were half intelligent as he was beautiful. But alas, one could never ask for too much. It hardly mattered though, as long as he got to have access to their Tsar and be part of his inner circle through that boy before His Imperial Majesty grew tired of this one. He had no doubt that Florent wouldn't last that long with his pretty and empty head. Their Tsar had a propensity of going through lovers, like a man of his status going through new gowns. 

"You promise?" With eyes that shined with eager ambitions, the younger man finally let his focus being lead away from the new jewellery on his wrist to the much shinier future that he had always dreamed about.

"Of course! As long as you do exactly as I say, and I will make sure your wish would come true." Nikolai replied with an indulgent smile, which was eagerly reciprocated by his lover sucking him back to hardness before impaling himself on it expertly.

The older man laid back as desire once again coiled in his belly. He enjoyed the wanton display at the front of him, as his mind drifted off to another boy - the one that was younger and even more beautiful with delicate features and eyes that were intense like the midnight sky outside. He dreamed of having a different pair of thighs, with porcelain white skin and beautifully toned lines, spreading wide before him, and those fathomless eyes naked and vulnerable, as they got lost in ecstasy. 

Nikolai Morozov was a man of many greeds. And he would never settle for anything less than what his heart desired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:
> 
> Pirozhki*: oval Russian hand pies that are made from a yeast dough that has been stuffed with savoury filling like cabbage, mashed potatoes, mushrooms or ground beef or sweet fillings such as fresh or stewed fruit.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Nikolai Morozov**: a Russian former competitive ice dancer, figure skating coach and choreographer. He represented Russia, Belarus and Azerbaijan in competitions. His past students included Florent Amodio, Javier Fernández, Miki Ando, Shizuka Arakawa etc.
> 
> Florent Amodio***: a French former figure skater. He is the 2011 European champion, a four-time French national champion, and the 2008 JGP Final champion. He has represented France at two Winter Olympics. He used to be coached by Nikolai Morozov.
> 
> BTW, does anyone understand what happened to Ryuichi Kihara at the end of chapter 29? I wonder if I had been way too subtle and cryptic in my writing. 😅😅😅


	43. Chapter 43

Despite the many things being said about Marquise Eteri Tutberidze, no one could deny she was a devoted wife to his sickly and frail husband. Each night without fail, she attended to her husband's dinner before she took her own with the rest of their family. Despite having a whole household of maids and servants, she insisted on doing so herself, citing it as her duty as a loyal wife. 

Anatoly Tutberidze had married ten times before he found his true love in Eteri, a girl who was young enough to be his granddaughter. A stunning beauty with long wavy blond hair and dark brown eyes from a once-prominent family, but now the only valuable thing left in that run-down house was their title. It was a match made in heaven, they said. Eteri was in desperate need for money despite having a royal title. And Anatoly who amassed a vast amount of fortune from mining both magic stones and gold lacked a royal title that would elevate his family from commoner to the Russian court. 

Unfortunately, his health deteriorated shortly after their marriage - a hunting accident that resulted in serious spinal injury. It was so severe that even magic could do so little for him. For the next 27 years, he shunned himself from society, leaving his young wife to take charge of the family. 

Still, he was fortunate, for Eteri bore him three healthy children. Although there had been wild speculations about whose seeds grew inside her womb that resulted in their births, those were only done behind closed doors, for both the man or the woman that were the subjects of their gossips held power to make their lives very difficult. Either way, it was hard to believe a man who was disabled from the neck down could be so fertile, after all. 

As usual, Eteri fed her beloved husband his dinner, a stew that was meant to be gentle on the stomach given his age and frail health. She filled the silence with updates of their children - their oldest Evgenia Medvedeva*, a politician in the making with her wit that was only matched by her beauty; their second child Alina Zagitova**, a future warrior perhaps, as her battle magic was already strong enough to beat all the senior boys in her school; and their youngest, Daniil Samsonov***, a future historian possibly judging by his intense interested in histories and folklores than actually engaging with people. 

She spoke about each of them with so much pride, and a gleefulness only grew as her beloved husband's face coloured in anger. Not many men could stand to have their wives' disloyalty shoving down their throats like that. Fires of fury and hatred were smouldering in those dulled eyes, but they were weak at best, like the dying coals after a long night of burning. 

Nonchalantly, she continued to force the spoon between those lips. She tsked when those thick brown liquid spilled from the tightly closed mouth and made a mess down at the front of Anatoly's shirt. Made from various kitchen scraps, spoiled vegetables, and leftovers from the servants' bowls, the soup filled the entire room with its foul stench. 

"Always so messy, my dear husband," She cooed lovingly before she forced his mouth wide open with a flick of her fingers. Then she emptied the entire content of the bowl straight down his throat, as he gagged helplessly. She didn't particularly worry about noises. He had lost the ability to form words a long time ago.

He spluttered, mouth twitching repulsively as he cursed her very existence. Eteri had learnt to read lips a long time ago, for the sheer entertainment value of seeing what her husband had to say on various things. But tonight, she wasn't in such indulging mood. So with another flick of her fingers, his lips were sealed shut. After all these years, her dear husband still failed to understand she was no longer that little girl who woke up in his bed, crying in confusion and pain.

Anatoly Tutberidze had been a family friend of her father's. She remembered him as the elderly gentleman who always gave her candies whether he visited her family home to discuss business with the adults. She had always liked him. Like any child, she was easily won over by small gestures of kindness that she never noticed how his gaze lingered on her, heated and hungry as it traced every inch of her still very child-like figure. 

When her father passed away, and she, a 13-year-old became the sole heir of her family estate as well as the mountains of debt that came with it, she went to him asking for help. In her naive and trusting heart, she firmly believed that kind man would help her, surely, for the sake of his friendship with her father. So when that gentleman promised her that everything would be okay before offered her a cup of tea, she drank it in gratefulness. And that was the last thing she remembered before passing out.

She woke up in his bed hours later, naked, bruised and bleeding. And that man whose dark appetite was finally sated looked at her like a little dove that he could crush between his hands. She couldn't stop crying after she finally understood what had just happened, out of a sense of betrayal, anger and dire hopelessness. Her pitiful sobs only halted when she found herself being pinned beneath that imposing figure. He had his hand over her mouth and nose, demanding her to be quite. She had no choice but to do exactly as he commanded as the air was cut off from her. She coughed and splattered helpless after he finally allowed oxygen to rush back into her body. He looked at her pitiful form and told her that he would offer his hands in marriage out of compassion. She still remembered how arrogant he looked when he said those words, like a king granting mercy to a beggar. And those words became the seeds that landed in a soil that cultivated nothing but vengeance. 

Ironically, it was that night that triggered her magic, a manifestation that she could never dream of, for her entire family line had been magically barren. And Anatoly did give her the key to his whole kingdom, albeit not so willingly. Even a man like that had his use after all, she smirked. 

The ultimate revenge wasn't a dish best served cold, rather an extravagant dinner with 21 courses that were to be indulged for a long time to come. 

\------------------------------------

Yuzuru knew it was a bad idea to agree to meet up with Florent Amodio. Two weeks after moving into the Morozov House, he was sick and tired of the endless provocation and petty snide that were solely directed at him. 

It was clear as daylight who Nikolai's favourite was, and it was constantly shoved down Yuzuru's throat by Florent's arrogant attitude. So when he gave Yuzuru a note that demanded them to meet at a secluded corner of the garden after 2 am to "settle the matter once for all", Yuzuru agreed. He thought it was a wager, where the loser would forfeit their position, and that would be the end of it.

So as per the instruction, he made his way there right on time. But Florent failed to make an appearance for another half hour or so. Just when Yuzuru was about to call it quits and leave, he spotted that familiar figure heading toward south. He called out to Florent, not too loud of course, least they brought about the guards. But the older man went ahead as if he didn't hear him. Ignored the uneasiness in his heart, Yuzuru followed suit. There was a short walk before the French stopped in front of a giant sculpture. From that distance, the Japanese wasn't able to see what precisely that boy did, but for a split second, a thin veil-like substance appeared before dissipating, revealing a vast space that expended further than the garden he was familiar with. Startled, Yuzuru realised what he just saw - an area that was hidden by a highly complex enchantment.

Then he heard Nikolai's voice first. It was fairly loud and clear in such a quiet night. His accent was heavy as he spoke in Common Tongue, "Please assure President Lysacek**** that everything is going according to plan."

"And your loyalty to our great nation and our President will be awarded handsomely in due time," A cloaked figure who stood by his side replied. Nikolai reached inside his pocket and retrieved a scroll. With a humble bow, he presented it to the other man. 

Yuzuru's eyes widened in shock. Within seconds, he knew what he was looking at - treason, a crime that was punishable in the most horrendous and slow form of death in this country. There was no way Nikolai would allow anyone who had witnessed his collusion with America lived to tell the tale. Just as he was about to turn and take himself out there quietly, Florent made his presence known, "Nikolai! Yuzuru is here! He's spying on you-"

Several things happened almost simultaneously. 

"Florent! Run!" Yuzuru yelled. 

Startled, the cloaked figure popped out of thin air with a Teleportation spell, leaving behind the scroll that he meant to take with him. 

And Nikolai moved in lighting speed with his sword drawn from his sheath. Florent's gleeful shout halted as blood spluttered from his mouth. His triumph smile froze on his lips as he looked at his lover in disbelief. 

"Why..." He stuttered, before more blooded flooded his throat, choking him on it. 

The older man caressed his bloodstained cheeks, his eyes full of pity, "You would never understand, would you? You could have meant for great things, but you ruined it with your petty jealousy and impatience."

Nikolai was indeed a little sad. A tool that could be very useful was now ruined. And it meant he had to waste his precious time to find the next suitable one. What an inconvenience. 

With that, he drove his sword in further. His cold eyes watched as Florent gasped in pain, his body arched sharply before it went limp, "But don't worry, I will make sure Yuzuru keep you accompanied shortly. Just like you wished for."

Then he turned around, starting his search for Yuzuru, who used this little distraction to make a head start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps I should keep a death tally.👀
> 
> Take a guess who the father of Eteri's children was.😏😏😏
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Evgenia Medvedeva*: a Russian figure skater. She is an Olympic silver medalist, a two-time world champion, a two-time European champion, a two-time Grand Prix Final champion, a two-time Russian national champion. Under the ISU Judging System, she has set world record scores 13 times. She is the first female skater to surpass the 80-point short program mark, the 160-point free skating mark, and the 230-point and the 240-point total mark. She trained under Eteri Tutberidze until May 2018. She had since relocated to Toronto. Currently, she trains under Brian Orser.
> 
> Alina Zagitova**: a Russian figure skater. She is the 2018 Olympic champion, the 2019 World champion, the 2018 European champion, 2017–18 Grand Prix Final champion, and the 2018 Russian national champion. She is the only Russian female figure skater who has managed to win gold at the Olympic Games, World Figure Skating Championships, European Figure Skating Championships and Grand Prix of Figure Skating Final. She is the youngest and second ladies' singles skater, after Yuna Kim, to win gold in all major ISU championship titles including the Junior Grand Prix Series and Final, World Junior Championships, Grand Prix Series and Final, European Championships, World Championships, and Winter Olympic Games. 
> 
> Daniil Samsonov***: a junior Russian figure skater, who currently holds the junior world record for the short program (87.33 points). He is the 2020 Youth Olympic bronze medalist, the 2019 Junior Grand Prix Final bronze medalist, the 2019 JGP Poland champion, the 2019 Winter Children of Asia International Sports Games champion, and a two-time Russian junior national champion.
> 
> Evan Lysacek****: a retired American figure skater. He is the 2010 Olympic champion, the 2009 World champion, a two-time Four Continents champion, the 2009 Grand Prix Final champion, and a two-time U.S. national champion. He is the last American male figure skater to win an individual Olympic medal. At the 2010 Winter Olympics, despite not having a quad in his programs, Lysacek won the gold medal with a margin of 1.31 over silver medalist Evgeni Plushenko who landed a quadruple toe loop-triple toe loop combination in the free skate. It sparked a lot of debate regarding the judging system and quads in the sport.


	44. Chapter 44

Yuzuru scolded himself for being an idiot as he ran. Florent was petty and prone to jealousy. He was practically an open book and couldn't hide his hostility if his life depended on it. But Yuzuru had never expected the older boy to be this naive in his scheming to get rid of his opponent. As if Nikolai would spare anyone who was privy to his secret.

He stumbled his way through the vast garden of the Morozov House in the darkness. The moon was hidden by the clouds. The path forward was mostly illuminated by the lamps that sparsely lined each side. In the near darkness, the beautiful garden was transformed into a lethal playground. Tree branches, long and wide, stretched out in front of him, forming a cavern of distorted limbs that seemed to reach out and grab hold of him. His bare feet sank into the newly sprouted spring grasses. The soften soil beneath him was effective at slowing him down. He had lost his shoes a while back. The laces that held them together fell apart as he tripped over one of the stones that he failed to spot in his haste to get away. Their sharp edges lacerated his knees, resulting in deep cuts and contusions. His right ankle screamed in pain from the awkward angle it landed on the moment of impact. He took a sharp breath and forced himself to stand up, after kicking off his now ruined shoes. 

The cold air was a shock to his system. His throat and lungs stung as he inhaled deeper and faster with each breath he took. He urged himself to run faster, but his long flowy gown was nothing but a hindrance, getting in the way between his ankles and feet with each step that he took. And every time his feet landed on the ground, it was accompanied by a jarring pain shooting up from his knees and ankle. Yet he forced himself to move forward. He knew the head start that Florent had managed to buy him with his life was leaking away, like sands on an open palm.

Before long, he heard the footsteps closing in behind him. He took a peek behind his back, eyes wide as he saw a sword coming right at him. Purely out of instinct, he dodged out of its way as he took a tumble on the ground. The dews soaked through his clothes, the early spring wind was still bitterly cold, but he could barely felt any of it. 

With a faint dark red glow, the sword came at him again. He recognised it, the eerie glow of the rubrum steal, the hardest metal known in all realms. The wounds inflicted by it were known to be incredibly difficult to heal, even with the aid of strong healing magic. And those who were lucky enough to survive were always left with extensive scarring that couldn't be erased by any known mean, magical or otherwise. 

Yuzuru was less lucky with the second blow. Its sharp edge cut through his clothes and left a gash on his left arm. Very quickly, blood soaked through his sleeve. But it was nothing comparing to the pain. He didn't think it was possible, but it was even worse than the flogging that he underwent in the hands of Marina Zoueva on The Wanderer. It was his first taste of the cruel metal blessed by both Gods, and why it was praised as one of the most effective weapons on the battlefield. The resulting pain was overwhelmed and disabling. 

He lost his balance, and his right leg sank to the ground. The pain blinded his senses, slowed his reflexes and reaction time. So when the third blow came for him, he had no choice but to block it with his arms crossed at the front of him, protecting the vital organs in his body. He screamed as it sank into his flesh once again. 

With a sinister sneer, Nicolai used the opportunity and aimed for his stomach that was wide open with his knee. Yuzuru cried out in pain as he doubled over. Another kick to his waist flipped him over to his back, and then there was he, entirely at the mercy of his enemy.

And his enemy had none for him at that point. Yuzuru whimpered as Nicolai pulled his head back by grabbed onto his long hair. The Japanese was made to look at his assailant in the face, as he had his fun. 

Nikolai had his knee pressed against Yuzuru's lower back. His weight ensured the Japanese had no way to escape. Wielding his sword like a paintbrush, the Russian made Yuzuru's body a canvas as he created an artwork that only he could see. His eyes glinted fanatically as he watched layers of skin, fat and muscles parting, blood swooning forward to fill the gaps, before overflowing them, and soaking the grass beneath them.

As if hot lava had been poured over his entire body, Yuzuru screamed and screamed, and continued to do so long after his throat had gone coarse. His broken voice echoed throughout the silent night, almost inhuman like. 

At some point, the dark clouds had parted for the soft shimmer of the moonlight to come through. Under that light, the blood turned an even more vivid shade of red. It contrasted so beautifully against Yuzuru's porcelain skin that a heat stirred in Nicola's belly. 

How he remembered the Japanese boy on his very first night here, naked as he stood on the hallway. That beautiful boy with his well-defined and slender figure, tantalising tiny waist, and the supple thighs that would surely be heaven like to burry himself in between. 

Nikolai hurriedly lowered his pants and parted Yuzuru's thighs before he drove into that blissful tightness. Yuzuru barely groaned beneath him, so overstimulated by the pain that he barely reacted at that point.

Nicolai hummed in dissatisfaction, as he vividly remembered how sensitive that Japanese boy had been that night. He responded to the barest touch with such delicious trembling that Nicolai was instantly hard inside his pants. How he longed to see that boy truly breaking for him, from that very moment.

So he sought for the prostate inside Yuzuru, as his hand stroked his penis crudely. He knew he had found the right spot when Yuzuru's body arched as he moaned. It wasn't in agony this time. Instead, it was sweet and tantalisingly high-pitched, full of yearning.

He forced Yuzuru to part his thighs further so that he could thrust in deeper with each snap of his hips. And he was soon rewarded with the Japanese boy responding in kind, his delectable ass slamming backwards, greedy for more. Before long, Yuzuru was so taken over by lust that he struggled to turn around, his lips desperately seeking for Nicolai's. When that awkward position he was in prevented him from doing so he meowed so pitifully and needily that the Russian just had to take pity on him. 

The older man flipped Yuzuru onto his back and smirked gleefully as he stared into Yuzuru's glassy eyes that were so lost in ecstasy, before devouring that kissable pink mouth. The Japanese welcomed him with his eager lips and greedy tongue like he was starving for air. He writhed beneath him in ravenous hunger, desperate for anything the older man was willing to give. Those thighs clenched tightly around Nicola's waist, urging him on, as that sweet voice begging him to fuck him harder, faster, just like that. 

Nikolai did precisely that, getting lost in the rapid approaching orgasm, intoxicated by the thrill of conquest. He had even considered sparing Yuzuru, until he grew bored of him, at least. In a magically enchanted hidden room perhaps, with chains attached to each limp, so that insatiable little slut would be bound to a bed, quivering so needily, begging for his cock and his hands for every minute that he was allowed to live.

So lost in the rush of finally dominating this wilful child, Nikolai never saw the rock aiming at his temple coming. He went down on the first blow with a thump. His body instinctively shrunk away, trying to shield itself away from the second blow. But it was in vain. Yuzuru descended upon him like a demon out of the gate of hell, using his own body to immobilise him. Anger and hatred boiled his blood. With everything he had in him, he stroke down again, again, and again. The skull broke apart beneath the blood-stained rock like a crushed watermelon. Yuzuru could see nothing but the redness that filled every inch of his vision. And that rush of vindictiveness was the most potent drug, and he simply couldn't get enough. 

Yuzuru didn't stop, not until he was physically restrained by the guards who were finally attracted by the commotions. As he was dragged away from the man who was long dead, he still managed to throw the rock in his hand as hard as he could, using the last bit of his energy getting one last shot at the mess of barely distinguishable broken bones, and ruptures skins on the ground.

By the time he was taken to see Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova, adrenaline had long rescinded, leaving him a limp mess. He was dragged across the pristine floor of the Tarasova House, leaving behind a long trail of blood and dirt. He was a mess of torn clothes, worn-out body and ghostly pale face that smelt of sex and blood. Gravel and sand were embedded in his wounds. Every movement, even the tiniest ones, caused excruciating pain. And those wounds were already infected, oozing with dark congealing blood and thick yellow-greenish pus. The putrid smell was enough to make the others in the room gag. 

Bright spots danced amongst his swinging vision, and he had to bite his bottom lips bloody from passing out. It was his will to live that supported his body that was on the edge of falling apart. He knew his fate depended on the next a few minutes, and he was determined to last that long out of sheer stubbornness.

He looked up at the woman occupying the only chair in the room, and despite his exhaustion, he didn't miss the flash of recognition and surprise that appeared in those eyes. It was gone in a split second later, but it was definitely there. Alarm bell immediately sounded his head. He wasn't expecting to be recognised. Not here, in a land that was so far away from Japan or Canada. 

Tatiana made her way down. Her well-manicured and pampered hand lifted Yuzuru's face so she could inspected it at a better light, not caring about the blood that was staining her fingertips. 

"Your name, child," She asked, her voice was soft and kind. For someone who just found out about her nephew's death, she was seemingly rather unconcerned.

" Yuzuru Sato, Your Grace," Yuzuru forced himself to meet her intense gaze head-on, while fervently praying that whatever false identity that the Crown Prince had created for him would hold up in scrutiny. 

With her eyebrow raised, she let go of his chin, "Tell me what happened then."

Yuzuru recounted what took place in the Morozov House in the last hour. Tatiana remained silent as she listened, brows creased. Afterwards, she sent her best enchantment master and her private guards to search Nikolai's residence. While they waited, Yuzuru was given a basic healing potion to stop the profuse bleeding. She intended to keep him alive for the time being, until she got to the bottom of the matter, it seemed. 

A few hours later, they returned to their mistress, bearing news. Not only they had found Florent's body and the scroll that wasn't taken exactly as Yuzuru described, they had also unlocked another enchanted chamber where they found more correspondences between Nicolas and various people who were linked to America, as well as gold coins and various other treasures that came from questionable sources.

Tatiana dismissed them with a wave of a hand. To Yuzuru's surprise, instead of conceding to anger or sadness, she once again focused on him.

"Now, what do I with you?" She hummed, eying his pitiful state. 

Yuzuru's heart clenched in his chest. He knew Tatiana had very little reason to keep him alive. After all, he was one of the very few people who had knowledge of Nikolai's treason, which could implicate Tatiana in an unfavourable light should it ever came out to the public. Not to mention, he was truly broken this time. Those wounds that were inflicted on him would scar badly should he survive, and they would remain on him until the day he took his last breath. Who had any use for a toy that was beyond repair? Still, he had to try, as futile as it was. He wanted to live.

"Give me time, and I'll prove my worth to you." Yuzuru pleaded, stalling for time. His mind was a scrambled mess. He didn't know what he could possibly have to offer. But he knew he had to convince her somehow. So he held his voice steady, faking confidence that he didn't have.

Then she smiled, clearly entertained by his poorly disguised desperation, and perhaps a little curious about what the boy could possibly come up with. So she indeed gave him time - one month to be exact.

Yuzuru bowed his head in sincere gratefulness, relieved to know he would live to see the morning sun. Then he let himself collapse onto the floor, consciousness departing from him like rapidly ebbing waves. He didn't even have energy left to whimper in pain as the guards came in to drag his broken form away, his wounds reopened as they abraded against the cold marble floor.


	45. Chapter 45

The Royal Palace of Russia was a sight of unparallel opulence and grande. 

Its construction started when the first Tsar of the House of Plushenko, Arkady the Pioneer, took over power. Throughout the generations, countless coins and men power had been invested in its continuous rebuilds, expansions and revisions. Tsar Arkady Plushenko, who transformed Russia from a landlocked state into one of Europe's largest empires, was not extravagant in nature. The original castle was only built with plain wood and simple bricks. On the same ground, it now stood an architectural wonder that was admired by all. Featuring over 500 rooms, the three-story building was built around a quadrangle with white columns and countless golden stucco moldings. Each of four facades featured distinct parapets, sculptures and landscapes portraying a glorious side of Russia: the two Gods who bestowed their blessing on this land; the inception of a realm that resulted from the endless conquests and expansion of its territories; the grand achievements of its very first ruler - Arkady the Pioneer; and the celebration of art, music and science. 

Inside the palace, art of all eras from all realms were collected and displayed, including priceless treasured by masters as Rembrandt, Rubens, Titian, Raphael, Tiepolo, van Dyck and Reni. Tsar Evgeni Plushenko was famously known for his patronage and love of art, almost as much as his competency in war and bloodshed. Some might even argue it was a deliberate approach to civilise his image that was tainted by blood and soot of wars. A ruler needed to be feared and loved at the same time, and striking that balance was the key. 

The most awe-inspiring place in the Russian Imperial Palace was the Throne Room, where the power and influence of the entire realm converged. The expansive space was furnished in the colour scheme of red and white, two sharply contrasting colours that honoured the two Gods - the God of West and God of East. The ornate chandeliers hang from the tall ceiling that was rampant with gilt decorations, lighting up every corner of the room. The pure white marble floor was covered with red hand-woven carpets with extravagant gold embroideries. Sculptures of warriors lined both sides, magnificent and life-like. While reflecting the remarkable wealth and ostentatious tastes of the Plushenko rulers, it also offered a fascinating glimpse into the rich history and religions of this land. 

The Throne Room was also known as the Blood Room, a nickname that people only dared to whisper behind closed doors. Beyond its rich and opulence, this very room had been flooded with blood time and time again. Every tile and rug had to be replaced each time power exchanged hands. Bloodstains were notoriously tricky to clean or disguise, after all. At the far end of this vast and magnificent room was the grand prize that drove every Tsar-wanted-to mad with murderous greed. Sons against fathers, brothers against sisters, husbands against wives. Only the ones with the strongest wills and coldest hearts would survive to win the ultimate prize.

And what a prize it was - a vast land that spanned across Eastern Europe and Northern Asia, one of the largest realms in the world, one of the chosen few that were blessed by both the God of West and God of East.

Made with red and white marbles and decorated with rubies and diamonds respectively, the imposing figures of the two Gods reached the tall ceiling. One on each side, their magnificent heads were lowered as they surveilled their human subjects and the Tsars who they bestowed their blessing upon solemnly. Between them, stood the Bare Bone Throne.

Made of over 5000 pieces of various human bones, the Russian Throne was a sight to behold. Despite its gruesome appearance, it was built by Arkady the Pioneer, as a way to honour his fallen friends and enemies, all of them as one watching the House of Plushenko reigning over this land. It was meant to be a symbol of celebration and unity, but it also served as a sobering reminder for all the Tsars to come what this realm was built upon. Cold, rigid and uncomfortable, the throne was not a place to be complacent, after all.

And today, the Throne Room was filled with nobles and prominent figures across all industries, as well as foreign dignitaries from all corners of the world. They were all here to celebrate the second wedding anniversary between Tsar Plushenko and Tsarina Yulia Lipnitskaya* from the House of Tutberidze. 

The only notable person missing from the festivity was the Tsar Plushenko's only legitimate son, Grand Duke Alexander Plushenko**. The six-year-old rarely made his appearance, clearly overlooked by his distant father, and the entire imperial court who followed suit. Not to mention, there was much ambiguity surrounding his birth mother who was never disclosed, and it cast a significant shadow on his legitimacy. The court was certainly in shock when his existence was announced by Their Imperial Majesty, who was single at the time. A child who seemingly came out of nowhere became the only legally recognised one carrying the Plushenko bloodline. Still, most paid him no mind. A child without love from his father or support from his mother's family would amount to nothing. Undoubtedly, the future heir apparent of the Russian Empire would come from their Tsarina's womb in the not so distant future. 

Tsar Plushenko and Tsarina Yulia Lipnitskaya made a striking couple, both of them with fair complexion and light coloured hair. Evgeni was a very handsome man with distinct sharp features and straight platinum blond hair. This man, who was adored by both Gods, emanated power. Those who were magical could sense it through every pore on their skin, and those who weren't were equally overwhelmed in his presence. His electric blue eyes were capable of either making his enemies squirm or his admirer swoon, depending on his mood. It was said that he had had countless lovers, of both genders. And there were always plenty more who were eager to utilize their charms. There was no stronger source of attraction than power and wealth. He drew all kinds of beauties to his bed. It was rumoured that his seeds scattered across the land of Russia, fathering countless illegitimate children. 

Unlike most in the position of power, he was wise enough to keep the fruits of his sordid affairs relatively private. It was out of respect for his wife, and the Tutberidze family behind her. And this was enough for the court and prominent religious figures from both fractions turning a blind eye, beyond petty gossips. Amongst them were the Head of the Church of West, Elena Anatolyevna Tchaikovskaia***, whose fraction had been gaining dominance in this land rapidly under her guidance; and the Head of the Temple of East, Anatoli Tarasov****, father of Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova, who had forsaken his role as the head of the House to devote himself to his God. Traditionally, both fractions held significant sway over Russia and its domestic and foreign policies, each owning a substantial amount of the land, serfs and coins. Their competing interested had been sources of domestic turbulence a few times in history. However, under Evgeni's reign, various reforms had occurred to ensure their political influences were reined in to assure his position as a single and an ultimate autocrat of this realm.

There was only one person who dared to parade their illicit affair with Their Imperial Majesty, which was practically an open secret in the Imperial Court of Russia. And she was here tonight, with all three of her children born out of wedlock with this man. There stood Eteri Tutberidze, proud and tall, as she raised her glass to the royal couple, with a smile that could only be described as heated and provocative. Tsar Plushenko returned it with the smile of his own and a nod in her direction. His wife, obediently followed suit, a strained smile plastered on her beautiful face. She was a delicate beauty with striking seafoam green eyes that were matched elegantly by her emerald green gown. But at this moment, they resembled more of the ocean right before a pouring rain. 

Wine flowed easily, as well as laughter and conversations. The ladies showed off their recent fashion conquests, while the gentlemen boasted their latest notch in their belts. 

As a land that celebrated music, art and science, there was a full line up of entertainment in various forms and genres for the night. And many nobles were eager to obtain a spot for their team, an opportunity to show off their fortune and sophistication. It was turning into a competition.

When it was House of Tarasova's turn, people certainly paid attention. With a loud clap of Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova's hands, all the lights were lowered until the entire room sunk into pitch darkness, except for a very soft glow that illuminated the centre of the stage. 

For a long moment, there was nothing - no performer, no instrument, no setup of any kind. Eventually, quite murmurs broke out. It was then a loud thud of drum sounded, like the first thunder of the spring, stunning them into silence. 

A long strand of black fabric was lowered down until it reached the floor, along with a figure cladded in soft black silk. As the dancer's toe landed on the stage, the sound of koto***** echoed throughout the hall. The delicate sound of this Japanese spring instrument mimicked the first rainfall of the season that nurtured the barren land after a long, harsh winter. 

With a paper lantern balanced on his palm, Yuzuru moved as if his body was carried by each note of music. Painted with blooming sakura flowers, the lantern glowed gently, adding light, shadow and depth to everything its light landed on.

His long black gown made by sheer silk flowed like the clouds that gathered on the night sky. Layers of fabrics collided, overlapped and then parted with each of his movement, just like the wind parting the gathered clouds. As he glided across the stage, light as a feather, the semitranslucent fabric gave away to glimpses of the sakura blooming on his naked skin, delicate and beautiful. 

With his face obscured by the lack of light, the lantern drew the audiences' eyes toward his beautiful figure and graceful movements. It slid down on his arms, caressed his long slender legs, and the elegant curve of his back, bathing everything it touched in a radiant, hypnotic glow. He had them wrapped around his finger. Their greedy gazes followed every graceful arch and curve that was flaunted before them. 

They were spellbound, their eyes wide and transfixed as they were transported to the Land of Rising Sun, where the first sakura blooming of the season was celebrated in a dark night, a rare sight only for the lucky few. Underneath the parted clouds, lanterns hang between the branches, drawing out the flowers that would otherwise be hidden by the darkness of the night. Those delicate flowers with their five pedals formed clusters of pinkness. Its overwhelming intensity softened by the dim light. They held their breaths, afraid that even the slightest sound would shatter the mirage at the front of them. 

Yuzuru was the sakura tree that braved the night air of the early spring, the branches that gently swayed amongst the chilly wind, the clouds of flowers that bloomed under the pale glow of a full moon, and the fallen petals that gently fluttered down like pink raindrops onto the damp earth. It was an ephemeral sight, just as impermanent as the sakura blooming and falling, its beauty enhanced by its transiency. Amidst the ever-shifting of light and darkness, he became a fae who emerged from generations of folklores, a celestial being who materialised out of their wildest imaginations. 

As the music gradually faded into nothing, Yuzuru paused. His body gracefully arched, with right hand extended toward the sky. His left hand was half raised, near his face, holding the paper latten. Against the emitting light, it was the first chance that the audiences got to see the face of the dancer. And what a breathtaking beauty he was. Skin flawless as porcelain, lips soft pink and kissable, just like the sakura petals. The only makeup applied was a hint of red rouge at the corner of his eyes. It contrasted sharply against those soul inducing obsidian eyes that were dark as the midnight sky. They were lowered at first, long lashes casting sultry shadows on his delicate face. Then he lifted his face, and that intense gaze landed on Evgeni, with just a little hint of allure, before it was gone, like a fervent dream in a spring night that disappeared into the first ray of sunlight, but lingered in mind long after. 

It was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard in the room, long after the performance had concluded. Entranced and bewitched, they saw Yuzuru as the fae who invaded their dream, so surreally beautiful and utterly unreal. They failed to compose themself even long after all the lights in the room had been restored. They were still deep in their disbelief despite seeing him standing on the centre of the stage, and indeed being as real as everyone else presented.

Then the applause erupted. Amongst the ceaseless cheering and clapping, Yuzuru showed his appreciation toward his audiences. He first bowed to the direction of the Bare Bone Throne. As he straightened himself, he found himself looking directly into the heated gaze of their Tsar. In that fleet moment, a wild swirl of emotions surfaced on those electric blue orbs. But they were gone before he had a chance to decipher them. 

Yuzuru turned away and acknowledged the rest of the crowd. Then he heard gasps and whispers breaking out. He followed their line of sight and turned around. His eyes widened as he found himself being mere inches away from the Tsar. The older man extended his hand. Those calloused fingers caressed Yuzuru soft cheeks, before brushing against his lips. Quickly collecting himself, Yuzuru stared right back at the man in his eyes, challenging and daring. 

Evgeni smiled, like a lion eyeing a little rabbit between its paws. 

Yuzuru let out a yelp when he felt an arm being placed around his back, and the other around the bend in his knees. In a swooping motion, the Japanese was lifted off the ground. Instinctively, he threw his arms around the Evgeni's shoulders, trying to find balance. Instead, he found himself only a breath away from those eyes that were ready to devour him. 

Like that, the older man carried him off the stage. The guards parted and bowed as they made their way out of the Throne Room to one of the many corridors in the Palace. 

Despite the Tsar taking his leave, the festivities continued. A singer went up the stage next and started singing a melodic tune. Wine cups were once again refilled, deserts were served, as the guests danced, ate and gossiped about what they just witnessed. No one paid particular attention to their Tsarina Yulia Lipnitskaya, who sat lonelily on her throne beside the vacant Bare Bone Throne, her hands tightened into a fist around her beautifully embroidered dress, face as white as a sheet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuzuru's dance scene was the one that I had been looking forward to writing ever since I knew I would take him to Russia in this story. And nearly 100k words later, it is finally here. I hope I've done it justice.
> 
> Here is an image I've created especially for this chapter. Unfortunately, my beginner level photoshop skill failed to let me change the colour of Yuzuru's costume to black. Oh well. I certainly tried... and failed. 😆 Click [here](https://twitter.com/karenkk_axel/status/1279240757677748225?s=19) to see it in full size.  

> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)
> 
> In real life: 
> 
> Yulia Lipnitskaya*: a Russian retired competitive figure skater. She was part of the Russian team to win the 2014 Winter Olympics team trophy, thus becoming the youngest female figure skater to win a gold medal at the Olympics under modern rules. She is the 2014 World silver medalist, the 2014 European champion, the 2013–14 Grand Prix Final silver medalist, and a two-time Russian national silver medalist. She used to train under Eteri Tutberidze and Sergei Dudakov before moving to Alexei Urmanov on November 2015. She retired on 9 September 2017 due to complications with ligaments of the legs and hip joints, as well as anorexia. She performed in Evgeni Plushenko's ice show Cinderella with him in 2019. 
> 
> Alexander Plushenko**: the second son of Evgeni Plushenko in his marriage to Yana Rudkovskaya, the record producer for Russian singer Dima Bilan. I've taken the liberty of changing his age in this story for the plot to work. Plushenko has another son, Egor Evgenievich, in his marriage to Maria Ermak, a sociology student at the Saint Petersburg State University at the time. He will not make an appearance in this fic since he's not a skater. 
> 
> Elena Anatolyevna Tchaikovskaia***: a Russian figure skating coach and choreographer. She runs a skating school at the Yantar Sports Center, in the Strogino District west of Moscow. She coaches in collaboration with Vladimir Kotin, her former pupil. She was one of Eteri Tutberidze's coaches when she competed in ice dance with Vyacheslav Chichekin. 
> 
> Anatoli Tarasov****: was a Russian ice hockey player and coach. He is considered the father of Russian ice hockey and established the Soviet Union national team as the dominant force in international competition. He was one of the first Russians to be inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame. He was Tatiana Tarasova's father. He passed away on 23 June 1995. 
> 
> Translation note: 
> 
> Koto (箏)****: a Japanese stringed musical instrument and the national instrument of Japan. It is derived from the Chinese instrument guzheng (古箏). Koto is about 180 centimetres (71 in) in length and made from kiri wood (paulownia tomentosa). They have 13 strings that are usually strung over 13 movable bridges along the width of the instrument. There is also a 17-string variant. To play the instrument, the strings are plucked using three fingerpicks, worn on the thumb, index finger, and middle finger.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations Yuzu for winning the MVS award! Well deserved!

For the next five days, Evgeni kept Yuzuru behind closed doors and had his way with him. Only his personal servants were allowed to be in and out of his lavishing bedroom. Trained to be inconspicuous in their master's presence, they crawled on their knees with their heads lowered as they performed their assigned duties. They replenished food, water, wine, and refreshed sheets and bath, before retreating silently. Only the most daring ones were bold enough to risk the wrath of the most powerful man in this land to steal a glimpse. Their curiosity piqued, just enough to temporarily override their fear.

Behind layers of translucent curtains, there was the sakura fae who had transformed into his human form. Across his naked body, thousands of pale pink blossoms smothered the bare branches, like countless clusters of soft clouds. Its bough extended elegantly across his naked back from his upper left thigh. Those broad spreading branches with prominent lenticels stretched across his right arm and ended at the tip of his index finger with scattering petals in varying shades of pink. 

Here, in the bedroom of the most powerful man of all Russia, that otherworldly being was made to experience human desire and perversion of this mortal world, as he writhed on top of the older man, shameless in his pursuit of pleasure.

Evgeni was a man of insatiable energy. It agglomerated inside of him, pent-up from months of peaceful days that lacked bloodshed. It became an unrelenting force as it finally found an outlet. For those five days, Yuzuru found himself being its unwilling prey, as he was pried apart by the older man's lips, hands and penis. It was almost like being back on The Wanderer, being at the mercy of the turbulent and unforgiving ocean that threatened to break every bone in his body.

He had never met a person who was as intimidating as Tsar Plushenko, and he had met quite a few who were in positions of power. Through the necessity of survival, he had taught himself to read his opponents - their desires, their wishes and their weakness. Yet his well-honed craft had no use when it came to this man, who was fathomless like a dark abyss. 

Yuzuru could hear the thumping beat of his heart, as the older man ran his finger across the thin collar that was secured around his neck. The Russian's eyes were dark and thoughtful as he studied the younger man, despite the playful curve of his lips. 

"You are magical," the Russian said, in Common Tongue. It wasn't a question, though, but rather a statement.

"Yes, I am, Your Imperial Majesty," Yuzuru replied. He wasn't surprised that the older man would know what it was, as uncommon as it was. It instilled hope inside of him. Perhaps amongst the vast number of scholars on this land and countless books inside the palace, there would be answers that he was seeking for, "I unwisely gained the wrath of a very powerful man."

"Pity," Evgeni commented offhandedly, already lost his interest in this particular topic as he moved on to examining Yuzuru who laid pliant on his bed.

The older man took his time as he unwrapped his new present. He studied Yuzuru with those electric blue eyes of his, as his fingers worked to untie the belt that secured the delicate silk gown together until his hands gained access to the naked skin beneath those layers of fabrics. He, then coaxed Yuzuru onto his stomach, so he could take a closer look at the tattoo that dominated his upper left thigh, his back, and his right arm. 

"Why did you choose the sakura?" He had asked, clearly intrigued by its expansiveness and intricacy.

"Because it's beautiful," Yuzuru replied with a smile that was timid and yet inviting as he looked over his shoulder. To his surprise, his answer was responded with storm gathering in those electric blue eyes in return. 

And that man's fury descended upon on him in no time, leaving him gasping in fear. His instinct to scramble away was quickly undermined, easily overpowered by that imposing figure.

Yuzuru felt those lips tracing over his tattoos, like hot lava spilling across his naked skin as they touched every inch of him. Those large hands fondled Yuzuru's body expertly, adjusting him into positions that were to his liking as he fucked into him in an unrelenting pace.

At first, there was nothing pleasurable about it, even as Yuzuru came undone under his skilful ministration. The sheer intensity of their coitus overwhelmed his body. Layers upon layers of stimulation quickly added up and led to overstimulation to the point of being painful. But slowly his young body adapted, learnt to distinguish the pleasure from the pain. And that pleasure was additive, as Evgeni showed Yuzuru another side of himself. The older man took him close to the verge of orgasm again and again, only to deny him at the last second - a cruelty that meant to taunt him with glimpses of pleasure.

And Yuzuru had indeed learnt to seek out pleasure. His body was greed and insatiable like a deprived child taking their first bite of chocolate. In the beginning, he prayed for Evgeni to find his release so it would be over soon. And now he sobbed as the older man withdrew his spent penis, leaving behind an emptiness inside that reduced him to a begging mass. 

He had lost count the number of times he had come. His body was raw and tender, like a towel that had been wrung dry. But that ruthless man still wasn't ready to spare him. So Yuzuru wept as he begged for mercy. And yet, his hips rocked frantically and erratically. His erection hungered for those fingers that had expertly brought him off again and again. The Russian smirked at his none existed resolve, as Yuzuru fucked himself on that erection relentlessly, hungry and desperate like a whore he was reduced to be. 

He succumbed to exhaustion. It was only then that he was allowed some mercy. But before long, he would find himself being awakened, to be fed with a bit of water and food. Sometimes, he would be carried to a freshly drawn bath, the remnant of their intercourse being cleaned off. But those moments were often short-lived. Soon the older man would coax Yuzuru's mouth or thighs for his pleasure once again. Yuzuru moaned and groaned, his legs quivered in exhaustion. His penis twitched weakly, even as pleasure wreck havoc in his veins like lightning, it simply had nothing more to give. 

The night morphed into the day, and then back to the night. It hardly mattered, because in that bedroom time ceased to have meaning. In those long hours, Yuzuru learnt that the heart and body were indeed separate entities. He was the best example, wasn't he? Here he was, his body quivering in animalistic hunger, and yet his heart felt nothing but exhaustion and shame. Before long, even that sense of shame was stripped out of him. It was then he realised sex was indeed nothing but a tool to control and manipulate. As Johnny said, sex came with power. But what he failed to teach Yuzuru was that real power could only come from a heart that was devoid of feelings.

Despite all these, Yuzuru knew it was hardly about sex. It was the older man prying him open with his crude method, destroying every wall, every amour he had managed to assemble and built. He had stripped Yuzuru bare until he was naked and vulnerable like a newborn child so he could study him. And Evgeni found his true enjoyment in seeing Yuzuru moaning and whining, his hands that initially resisting but eventually relenting, his thighs that ultimately parting out of his own accord. 

Yuzuru was forced to shed his skin, a shell that he had long outgrown and yet held onto. Underneath it was a carnal creature, who craved sex and fulfilment that he didn't recognise - a cruel punishment for his dishonesty.

Why a sakura tree indeed. 

Yuzuru had a lot of time in hands while he recuperated from his injury. Despite being given the best medical attention, it took nearly two weeks for those wounds caused by the rubrum blade to close up, and then another week for them to heal. While he laid on his stomach day after day, enduring the pain that only be made bearable with the most potent numbing potion, he had time to prepare himself mentally. So when the layers of bandage were finally taken off him, he only eyed his dark and protruding scars with clinical interest. 

Then he asked for a skilful artist, who helped him to map out all his scars onto paper before worked with him on designing a tattoo that would render them insignificant.

And he certainly had a lot of time to think about a design, something that would become part of him permanently. Sakura was the first concept that came to his mind - a flower that was synonymous to his motherland.

His fingers automatically sought out for the sakura diamond necklace that was no longer on his neck, just like his motherland what was no longer within his reach. His heart was heavy with pain and longing. He still remembered - the gift that supposed to seal Yuzuru and Javier's commitment to each other. And yet here he was, all by himself. The necklace had been replaced by a magic restraining collar, the sakura trees in his garden were blooming ocean away, and the promise of seeing the hanami* together broken like a shattered mirror.

How fitting it was indeed. Despite sakura's breathtaking beauty, its short blooming season symbolised fragility and impermanence. As the weather warmed, the blossoms started to fall like pink falling rain. They departed from this earth in a spectacular shower of soft pink petals, a last display of beauty as a stark reminder to life's transiency. Just like the love he and Javier used to share, as spectacular as it was, it was fleeting - a short chapter in their respective lives.

And he wanted that reminder, a sobering memento that he would carry on him until the day he took his last breath. 

On the dawn of the sixth day, the most powerful man in Russia finally took his leave to attend his first council meeting since the night of his wedding anniversary. And Yuzuru was finally left alone, with a body and mind that were equally overtaken with exhaustion. Before he had a chance to drift off to sleep, the maids came in and attended to him. He was bathed. Every sore muscle on his body was massaged out by their experienced hands. Then he was presented with a new gown and a lavish breakfast. 

Mikhail Kolyada**, the head of Tsar Plushenko's security team, personally came in with trays of gifts from Yuzuru's new lover. It was indeed a generous gesture that elevated Yuzuru's status in the imperial court. 

Trays of black pearls, gold jewellery and diamonds were presented as rewards for his service. Yuzuru's smiled appropriately, with just the right amount of enthusiasm to show his gratitude. His hands glided across them as his fingers felt the opulence of each item, and all he could think about was when he would accumulate enough to satiate Akihisa and the bottomless pit that was his greed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:
> 
> Hanami (花見)*: or flower viewing, is the traditional Japanese custom of enjoying the transient beauty of flowers. It's a spring tradition of admiring blossoms - usually sakura, and less frequently, plum. People gather under the blossoms for food, drink, and song.
> 
> In real life:
> 
> Mikhail Kolyada**: a Russian figure skater. He is the 2018 World bronze medalist, 2017 European and 2018 European bronze medalist, 2017 Grand Prix Final bronze medalist, 2017 Cup of China champion, 2017 and 2018 Russian national champion. His current coach is Alexei Mishin.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg officially over 100k! Hooray! I can't believe I've managed this far! I'm so in shock!

When Yulia Lipnitskaya first met Marquise Eteri Tutberidze, she was barely 5 years old. It was at her mother's funeral. 

In a chilly winter morning, the frail woman who was bedridden since giving birth was buried in the Lipnitskaya family mausoleum. There was very little attendance, apart from a priest from the Church of West who facilitated the service. A few people bothered to make an appearance. Most of them were far too busy congratulating Baron Lipnitskaya and his upcoming nuptial. No one spoke ill of the groom to be, who was already busy procuring a new bride as his late wife laid on her deathbed. 

Yulia stood there, shivering as tears encrusted on her cold cheeks. Her mourning gown was so thin that it barely shielded her from the harsh wind. She was mostly ignored by those around her. They were far too busy with their gossips and gleefulness to spare her a look. 

Why would they? The firstborn of the House of Lipnitskaya was about to be shipped off to a boarding school somewhere far away and not to be seen for a very long time. Children came easily, after all. The future Baroness of the House Lipnitskaya was only 16, and her fertile body would surely produce many more in the next few years. The only person who truly cared about Yulia and her wellbeing was no longer amongst this mortal world.

The moment Marquise Eteri Tutberidze stepped outside of her carriage, silence fell. These people lowered their arrogant heads and shuffled amongst themselves make way for her. At that moment, the only sound that could be heard was the priest chanting his prayer for the dead. Yulia looked up at her in wonder. In her vision that was fogged by tears that were still to be shed, she could barely make out beyond the silhouette of a woman in a beautiful mourning gown, and a black veil made with the finest crape. 

Wordlessly, the woman who claimed to be her aunty offered Yulia her hands. Despite knowing nothing about her, the young girl flung herself into her arms, allowing this stranger to hold her close just like her mother used to do. Eteri smelt of expensive perfume that tickled her nose, but the hands that held onto her shoulders were almost as warm as her mother's when she used to soothe her out of nightmares or sickness. 

At that moment, she completely lost it. No amount of schooling and scolding about befitting behaviours in the public mattered. She buried her face amongst the layers of fancy fabrics and sobbed loudly. Eteri made sure her small body was hidden from prying eyes of the public, as she stood there stoically like a rock that weathered hundred years of storms in her expensive silk dress, her exquisite diamond and pearl jewellery set in black. 

And Yulia felt power by simply standing beside her. Her hands clasped onto that beautiful gown like her life depended on it. She felt it coursing through her tiny body, being channelled by those hands holding onto to hers. And in a moment like this, she was transformed from that timid and submissive little girl into someone who was strong and wilful. 

In her naivety that was only capable by a child, she believed in the power brought forth by beautiful clothes and priceless jewels. She thought if she were able to wear them like amours, she would be just as commanding and invincible like Eteri was. So when she got home hours later, she piled spare curtain materials onto herself and made necklaces out of cheap stones behind the close door, just so she could sit at the front of a mirror, dreaming about being someone who she wasn't.

It was that childish fantasy that sustained her for the next few years. She survived the harsh environment of the boarding school that she was sent to, the stern teachers who were stringent with food and clothes, and generous with punishment and labour. Her father's love rarely extended beyond sending over a few coins to that school to ensure his oldest child stayed out of his new family's way. 

In those nine years that followed, she learnt a lot more about Marquise Tutberidze, beyond her glamorous and commanding presence. A woman who came from an equally disadvantaged background. Despite being shackled by the family debt, she had managed to turn her fortune around and controlled her fate. 

After her elderly husband became stranded in the sickbed, she took over the House of Tutberidze. She faced those who belittled her head-on, tamed their greedy hearts and fought her way to her throne. Despite all the naysayers and the rampant gossips, she proved herself by picking the winner out of the three Plushenko brothers and secured a prominent place of power in the Russian Imperial Court for the family. Those Tutberidze by blood finally accepted an outsider like her as their Head of the House. Begrudgingly or sincerely, it hardly mattered. They knew they had to fall in line to have a share of the glory and power that she brought in for them. 

When Yulia was 15, her father passed away. Her stepmother was more than eager to marry her off to the first man who showed any interest in her, so she would have no claim over the family title or fortune. A merchant in his 70s who had just lost his wife who was in need of someone young to warm his bed made an offer, and it was readily accepted. Yulia had conceded to her fate at that point, after many nights of crying her tears into her pillow. She packed her pitiful belongs into a small bag and waited for her new husband's carriage to come and collect her. It was then Marquise Eteri Tutberidze made an appearance once again.

Still beautiful and commanding as ever, her auntie laid out another path for her. She promised the young girl prestige, respect and power. And Yulia eagerly took it, once again dazzled by the beautiful gowns and priceless jewels that Eteri wore, and the possibility of a new life that she dangled before her. 

Six months later, Yulia placed her hand in Tsar Plushenko's palm, as she and her husband took their wedding vows before both Gods for their union. A magnificent tiara made of platinum and encrusted with countless diamonds sat on her head, holding an eight-metre long train embellished with over ten thousand mother-of-pearl sequins and pearls in place. Her wedding dress was heavily hand-embroidered with silver and gold threads by the finest masters in the realm. Opulent beyond her wildest dream, the wedding of the century was all the women in Russia could talk about for the next a few months. For the first time in her life, she was the one people looked up to in admiration and envy. 

She looked on at her perfect life in bedazzlement. Prestige, respect and power were all in her hands now. She was once again that small child looking into a mirror, only this time instead of an unrealisable dream staring back at her, what she saw was a reflection of her new reality.

But she soon found that she was still that naive child, pretending to be who she wasn't. The only difference was, instead of sitting before her old burnished mirror, she now sat on the throne beside the Bare Bone Throne, along with her borrowed prestige, rented respect and forged power. No amount of jewels or gowns could turn her into someone like Eteri.

And now Marquise Tutberidze sat across from her, still so commanding and unwavering. With a flick of her fingers, a vial of potion that laid between them was pushed towards her direction, "If you would, Your Imperial Majesty."

Yulia was under no illusion that if she dared to refuse, there would be grave consequences. Many before her had learnt the hard way of not defying Eteri's wishes. Death was an easy way out, comparing to the never-ending humiliation and suffering bestowed upon them after having everything that they ever cared for taking away. 

She was expendable, easily replaceable by any other beautiful girl with Tutberidze blood running in her veins. Where would she be then, as the disgraced and divorced wife of the most powerful man in this land? A nunnery that was oceans away? Living in poverty and disgrace until she took her last breath in shame?

So with her trembling fingers, she picked up the vial from the table. The potion inside was pitch black with an overwhelmingly bitter medicinal taste. Every first day of the month, Eteri would show up in her private meeting room, presenting this vial without fail. And Yulia, despite her bitterness, took it obediently, letting it poison her womb.

Eteri examining eyes never left her niece until she downed the entire vial, then she nodded with a smile. She stood up and bowed gracefully, and yet both of them knew who held the real power here.

"I understand what is being asked of you is difficult" She offered. Her smile was kind and compassionate just as the day she appeared at Yulia's mother's funeral, "But it will all be worth it when is your turn to sit on the Bare Bone Throne."

Yulia nodded meekly. Marquise Tutberidze always fulfilled her promises, just not in the way you wished it to be. 

\-----------------

Yuzuru was under no illusion that Tsar Evgeni Plushenko didn't care for him. Not beyond an object that piqued his interest for the time being, or a compliant body to warm his bed. His interest in him was most likely fleeting, given his track record of going through lovers. After all, the older man didn't even care enough to inquire about his name. 

Instead, the most powerful man in Russia named him Yozakura*, the night cherry blossom - the same name as the dance Yuzuru performed at his wedding anniversary. It was a beautiful name, just like the exquisiteness that only existed at nights. Illuminated by the glow of the moon and the hanging lanterns between the branches, the fragile clouds of pinkness bloomed in the soft spring wind in an ethereal glow. 

It didn't matter how beautiful that name was, it wasn't all that different from a master naming a newly acquired pet. Yet Yuzuru plastered on his smile, and thanked the man like an obedient lover he was meant to be, only to be met with the toying gaze of His Imperial Majesty.

It was the name Yozakura that spread to every corner of this realm. So perhaps it wasn't a bad outcome considering the limelight Yuzuru found himself under. There was a sense of security in the anonymity that his new identity offered him.

Yuzuru's courtesan career took off after his grand debut at the Tsar's wedding anniversary celebration. His Imperial Majesty was a generous lover. The Japanese found himself being lavished with jewels, gowns, a monthly stipend and a modest house in exchange for the exclusivity of his company. 

Doors opened for him. People spared no expense or favours in seeking for his time, either to satisfy their curiosity or hoping to gain advantage from his newly formed connection to the Tsar. Yuzuru trod carefully, fully aware of how fragile his position within the Russian Imperial Court was. 

The Russian political landscape was complicated, built upon complex webs of interest and religious affiliation, and cemented in generations of alliances and grudges. It was a delicate dance on a stage full of political landmines that Yuzuru had to learn quickly. Even the smallest mishaps could result in unthinkable consequences. 

Duchess Tarasova was gracious enough to offer her guidance in many of those afternoon teas that they shared. Amongst the steaming cups of tea and trays of delicate pastries, Yuzuru was steered away from many of the inconspicuous traps he could have easily fallen into. He couldn't help but wondered if her generosity came from wishing to preserve his usefulness for the time being or her concern that any mishap on his part would bring shame to her house. Either way, the woman with her grandmotherly smile never failed to remind him whom he owed his life to, with her kind words and benevolent support.

Yuzuru learnt to distance himself from much of the political struggle in the court. It wasn't his place to meddle in politics and make enemies, so mastering the art of being relevant and yet impartial was a necessary skill for his survival. Despite the rampant speculations about his so-called wicked charm, he didn't have their Tsar wrapped around his little finger. 

Evgeni frequented the house that he bought for Yuzuru. But he had clearly had lost his interest in bedding the Japanese. Instead, he spent hours there enjoying Yuzuru's dance, and the bright green concoction that he expertly created with the finest matcha powder and the spring water extracted from ancient mountains. 

One of his gifts was a priceless koto** from early seventeenth-century, completed with an exquisite lacquered storage box, silk brocade wrapping, and thirteen gold-tipped and lined bridges. Along with it, a koto master who came twice a week to give him lessons.

Unfortunately, playing this particular instrument wasn't one of Yuzuru's fortes. Evgeni snorted as his clumsy fingers plucked the delicate koto strings, producing disconnected sounds. The younger man's cheeks coloured in shame. And yet, the Russian never seemed to be tired of it. Between the steam rising above the chagama*** and the disjointed music as Yuzuru struggled to master the instrument, he remained quiet. His usually intense eyes softened to the shade of a calm ocean. 

It was almost as if the older man was creating an illusion, a fragment of his own reality. And Yuzuru somehow was fit to be a part of it. He didn't think much of it though. During his stay at the brothel, he was exposed to many bizarre fantasies and peculiar kinks of men and women, and this was just so benign in comparison. 

At times, Yuzuru was asked to read out loud in Japanese. And he complied. It was usually scrolls of poetry or story. It frequently went on into early hours of the morning, until Yuzuru raw throat could barely produce another sound. He didn't understand the motivation behind such demand. But his voice seemed to relax the older man somewhat. The intense aura that surrounded Evgeni constantly seemed to lighten somewhat, as his stern lips were graced with a barely visible curve. 

Sometimes, Yuzuru even found the older man falling into a light slumber, his body relaxed against the chair, with his head supported by his right arm. The younger man gently laid down the scroll on his hands and went on to search for a blanket that would shield him from the night air. 

Playing on the role of an attentive lover, Yuzuru laid the soft blanket on that relaxed shoulder gently, only to find himself facing those electrifying blue eyes of his new master. Yuzuru barely got out of the way of the hand that aimed for his throat. But the magic force behind the move was enough to fling him across the room until his back hit the wall. Disoriented, he struggled to sit up, only to find himself being pinned down with a hand enclosing onto his throat, squeezing it hard enough to cut off all the oxygen supply to his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes: 
> 
> Yozakura (夜桜)*: night cherry blossom. It refers to viewing cherry blossom at night, which is a typical night event for Japanese, held during the cherry blossom season.
> 
> Koto (箏)**: a Japanese stringed musical instrument and the national instrument of Japan. It is derived from the Chinese instrument guzheng (古箏). Koto is about 180 centimetres (71 in) in length and made from kiri wood (paulownia tomentosa). They have 13 strings that are usually strung over 13 movable bridges along the width of the instrument. There is also a 17-string variant. To play the instrument, the strings are plucked using three fingerpicks, worn on the thumb, index finger, and middle finger. 
> 
> Chagama (茶釜)***: tea kettle, a metal pot or kettle used in the Japanese tea ceremony. They are made of cast iron and are used to heat the water used to make tea.


	48. Chapter 48

Yuzuru tasted the metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat. But it hardly mattered. Not when his windpipe was feeling the crushing pressure, and his lungs were expanding painfully as it cried for air.

Driven by the instinct that was instilled into him by his combat training, Yuzuru lifted his right knee and drove it hard toward the stomach area that Tsar Plushenko had left wide open in that position. The older man clearly wasn't expecting any resistance. He groaned as he took the hit, before stumbling backward. 

The hand on Yuzuru's neck loosened. He gasped in relief. Oxygen rushed back in through his bruised throat. It wasn't until his brain was coherent enough to process what had just happened that he realised what he had done. His heart sunk. 

His action could be interpreted in many ways - either an act of open defiance or worse, an assassination attempt. Either could lead to his head departing from his shoulders swiftly. 

In that split second, he knew it was his last opportunity to have any sway over his fate. 

So he shrunk back toward himself like a frightened child, his entire body trembling in fear. His eyes were wide and pleading, looking up at the other man in all the innocence and despair he could master. 

It was a very different kind of armour that he chose to wrap around himself. A new skill that he had acquired during his stay on The Wanderer. Instead of hiding his fear and insecurity, he displayed them for all to see. He knew how he was perceived - fragile, delicate and beautiful. And these could be weapons too, once he had learnt to wield them to his advantage. So far, it had proven to be effective, enough to disarm even the most hardened soul.

For a long moment, Yuzuru could hear nothing but his own rapid breathing echoing in his ears. Evgeni studied him in silence. The Japanese could feel his heated stare burning onto his skin like lava. Slowly, he felt his confidence started to crumble. Time seemed to have stretched infinitely, as his resolve began to be weakened by his own doubt and uncertainty. Clearly, this was the exact effect that the older man was after.

It was the sound of metal sliding across the marble floor that broke the silence. Yuzuru looked down, only to find Evgeni's sword merely inches away from his fingertips. 

For someone as extravagant as Evgeni, his chosen sword that kept him accompanied since his childhood was surprisingly plain. There was no decorative stone or fancy design on the pommel or the grip. Its body glistened with a familiar faint dark red glow - the telltale sign of a weapon made with rubrum steel. Only this particular sword had a deep red colour that was almost akin to black, instead of a faint shade of red like the others that he had encountered previously. 

Evgeni gestured him to pick it up. Biting onto his bottom lip, Yuzuru complied. It was incredibly heavy. Even with both of his hands bearing its weight, his wrist and arms felt the burn. As he suspected, it was made with pure rubrum steel. Apart from the scarcity of the material, its weight was another factor that prevented pure rubrum steel weapons from being more prevalent in all realms. The trade-off between power and weight was a dilemma that every swordsman and swordswoman must face. 

When Evgeni charged forward with the sheath as a makeshift sword, Yuzuru had no choice but to respond. He clumsily dodged out the way. He placed no effort in his defence, still fervently hoping the fragile image he presented would be enough to deter the older man.

Unfortunately, it didn't work on the Russian. As if seeing through his facade, Evgeni's next round of attacks came faster with more forces. Yuzuru felt the crushing pain when the sheath landed on his shoulder. If the older man had a real sword in his hand, his arm would have been severed. 

"Show me what you have got, or there will be consequences," His Imperial Majesty's electric blue eyes glinted dangerously. 

Yuzuru knew this was the last warning he was going to get. The facade he had painstakingly put together failed. Now he was at the mercy of this man, and whatever he was hoping to achieve in this game of cat and mouse. So he found his footing. He placed his entire body weight on his right leg like he had been taught, and used the momentum to spring forward. The sword in his hand was directly aimed at the older man this time. 

It was an amateur attempt that was easily blocked by the Russian, who had his left hand behind his back with his entire stance relaxed. The sheath met with the sword with a resounding bang. The Russian was so much more powerful that it was enough to knock the sword out of Yuzuru's hands. 

Evgeni clearly knew the sheath made with steel and embossed with leather would not withstand a direct impact with rubrum steel. Instead, he skilfully made sure it landed on the flat side of the blade, instead of the sharp edges. 

Yuzuru found himself on his knees once again. The sword sprang a few times across the floor until it stopped a couple meters away from him. To his surprise, the older man didn't push it further. Not until Yuzuru got on his feet and the sword was back in his hands.

It didn't take that long for the younger man to realise it was some sort of test, like a sword master testing their student's aptitude. 

Despite wielding a rubrum steel sword, it was evident that he was far from having the upper hand. He was hardly a match against Evgeni and his well-honed skill from years and years of training and fighting. And yet he didn't dare to stop until the older man commanded him to. 

In the beginning, he was hesitant and unsure as he followed Evgeni's order, but gradually his wilful spirit was ignited. All the hurt, anger, fear and pain that he had bottled up became the fuel that invigorated the flame that burnt inside of him. 

Slowly but surely, Yuzuru's body remembered, just like the dance skills that he thought he no longer possessed. His movement became much more fluid. He played on his strength - speed and agility, using his opponent's force and momentum to his advantage. He even managed to surprise the older man once or twice, with the sharp blade mere inches away from his waist and arm. The Russian chuckled in delight as he easily evaded those attacks.

Eventually, Evgeni found satisfaction and ordered him to stop. Yuzuru collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, as adrenaline that flooded his entire system started to recede.

"You are combat trained." The older man commented.

And Yuzuru knew better than lying at this point. He had some personal experience of His Imperial Majesty's legendary wrath by now. So he nodded his head. 

"By Master Ghislain Briand?"

That caught Yuzuru by surprise. 

The older man was clearly entertained, "You carry his distinctive style. It wasn't hard to see."

Despite only being in Master Briand's class for a year and a half, Yuzuru had been his favourite student, although hardly his best. His teacher often lamented over the fact that Yuzuru didn't receive any training during his childhood, calling it a waste of his natural talent. But Yuzuru was just thankful for the opportunity to learn, something he couldn't even imagine when he grew up in that confined dungeon. He tried his best to make up for the lost time by training harder, longer than anyone else, which endeared him to his teacher.

"Do you ride?" Evgeni asked, as soon as Yuzuru nodded his head, he followed up with another question, "Archery?"

"No, I didn't have the opportunity," Yuzuru replied, saddened over the missed opportunity. He simply had too much catching up to do, and some aspects of his education lapsed. 

"At last, you have learnt to be honest," the older man laughed, as he extended his hand to pull Yuzuru off the floor, "Now tell me, would you like to receive further training?"

Yuzuru looked up at him in surprise. It was the first time the most powerful man in Russia had inquired about his will. He nodded his head eagerly, excited for the opportunity to further his training. 

So instead of more jewels and gowns, the Tsar sent over training gears. Black and form-fitting, they were made with highly specialised fabrics that were designed for combat and training. The armours came next. They were lightweight and conforming to his every moment. The sword was undoubtedly a much more appreciated gift than that priceless koto. Yuzuru held it in his hands, marvelling its beauty. Made with an alloy of rubrum steel and steel, it was a perfect balance between weight and power for Yuzuru and his built. 

Mikhail Kolyada, the head of Evgeni's security team replaced the koto master in Yuzuru's weekly lessons. Despite only being a couple months older than Yuzuru, the young man was praised for being one of the finest fighters in the realm. His style somewhat resembled Yuzuru's given his relatively smaller stature, with focus on speed over strength. 

As a seasoned warrior with his skills refined in the battlefield, Mikhail's every movement was practical and efficient. Conserve energy while delivering maximum damage was his style. Yuzuru often found himself practically collapsing onto the ground after a training session with him while he barely broke a sweat. There was nothing fancy about his footwork or the way he handled his sword. Yet, there was an abundance of beauty in his movements, in their cleanness and precision. 

He trained Yuzuru like a soldier. For that, Yuzuru was incredibly grateful. He wanted to be taken seriously, not as a courtesan who suddenly decided to take on a new hobby to pass the time. From the daily 5km run that aimed to improve Yuzuru's stamina, the upper body training to instil strength, to the lower body regimes to improve his stability, Mikhail was ruthless as a teacher. He rarely held back on his one on one training with Yuzuru either, and it often led to the Japanese bleeding and bruising at the end of their session. Yuzuru never complained. Instead, he spat out the blood that welled his throat and pushed himself back to his feet.

Beneath the hardened exterior, Mikhail had a gentle soul. Not that he let it show often. He had to maintain a hardened image to guide and lead his subordinates, after all. But it was evident in how he always made sure Yuzuru was alright at the end of their sessions. It surprised Yuzuru at first, as he wiped away the blood at the corner of his lips. But he learnt to accept those acts of kindness - whether it was a potion that was being poured down his throat when his hands shook so badly that he could barely hold the vial, or a doctor being summoned on his behalf to address his wounds. 

As Yuzuru made progress with his sword training, archery was also added to the training agenda. Mikhail handpicked his first recurve bow based on Yuzuru's draw length and draw weight. He strapped the arm guard and finger guard onto the Japanese's hands to ensure they were protected from the rebounding bowstring after releasing arrows were being released. He stood right next to Yuzuru, making sure he learnt the correct posture, with his feet shoulder-width apart, and 90 degrees to the target. His hands covered Yuzuru's as he showed him how to grip the string with force coming from his back muscles instead of his bicep or arm. He stood so close to the Japanese that his breath was literally next to Yuzuru's ear, and it tingled. The younger man turned his head slightly. The Russian appeared to be completely immersed in his teaching. The only thing that betrayed him was the slight tinge of pink on the tip of his ear. Yuzuru silently turned away. 

The Japanese proved to be a talented archer, he took on the skill so quickly that it even surprised a seasoned one such as Mikhail. The Japanese smiled in happiness. These days had been the most joyful ones since he landed in Russia. However, shadows were looming over the horizon. Shadows that he knew that was on the way. 

Evgeni's interest in Yuzuru had certainly dwindled, to the point that it was being noticed by the entire Russian Imperial Court. His visits grew further apart as time went by, and their durations shortened considerably when he did. Yuzuru supposed he was no longer that intriguing after the man saw through the beautiful facade that he had painstakingly created. 

Soon, another gossip travelled across the court like a wildfire. Apparently, the most powerful man in all Russia had found a new indulgence to entertain himself with - a pair to be exact. 

Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii* were a pair of newly debuted courtesans. They were the students of the formidable Tamara Moskvina**, a legendary woman who managed to keep General Alexei Mishin in her bed for the last 20 years. Her glowing endorsement was enough to intrigue the entire court of elites. Like many other courtesans, she took on students when she was still at her prime, training them in the craft of seduction for hefty loans that were to be repaid once they made their debut. In return, these new blood in the trade became the income streams for their teachers, when their popularities diminished along with their beauty. 

Just like that, Yuzuru found himself being yesterday's news. People looked at him in an equal amount of pity and gleefulness. And Yuzuru wasn't beyond being affected, despite feigning the indifference like any prideful courtesan.

Mikhail scolded Yuzuru for his distraction during their archery lesson after he missed the last five shots. The younger man looked away in shame, as his face burnt. In a moment of weakness, tears moistened the corner of his eyes. Not that he was particularly attached to Evgeni. Nonetheless, it was a setback to his grand plan. The bitterness and frustration were all he could feel at that moment. 

Even though he quickly blinked the unshed tears away, it failed to escape his teacher. Mikhail, who clearly thought it was caused by his harsh words earlier, made a somewhat awkward attempt of offering comfort, "Don't worry, His Imperial Majesty will come around. He sees you differently. After all, he had never fallen asleep at the presence of another person before, a lover or a wife."

Yuzuru smiled at him, grateful for this act of kindness. Even though he took little comfort in such words. Not that any was needed. He had been mentally preparing himself for this day. There was no use crying over spilled milk, after all. He had long learnt to play the hand he was dealt.

Instead, he placed another arrow on the arrow rest. He pulled the string back as he aimed the target with his dominant eye. He blocked out all the distracting thoughts and frail emotions, focused on nothing but the goal ahead of him. Then he released the arrow. 

And this time, it hit squarely on the bullseye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii*: Russian pair skaters who are coached by Tamara Moskvina. They are the 2020 European and Russian champions, 2019 European bronze medalists, 2019 Skate Canada and Rostelecom Cup champions, 2018 Internationaux de France bronze medalists.
> 
> Tamara Moskvina**: is a Russian pair skating coach and former competitive skater. She competed in pairs with Alexei Mishin, and they became the 1969 World silver medalist and Soviet national champion. She currently coaches Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii.


	49. Chapter 49

Yuzuru had his first encounter of the famous the Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii during the annual imperial hunt that signified the start of the hunting season. Taking place at Peterhof, the massive hunting ground was situated near the beautiful Peterhof Palace with its strong influence of European aesthetic in design. 

Amongst the flat landscape, marshy tracts, and rugged forests for those who looked for challenges, men and a few women were eager for the opportunity to show off their prowess in hunting. Their hunting gears had been polished and sharpened to perfection by their servants, and their well-trained hounds were barking in excitement. Even their pedigreed horses moved restlessly beneath their owners, their muscles rippled underneath their freshly groomed pelt. 

Yuzuru, in his full set of hunting gear, with his quiver and bow on his back, certainly raised a few eyebrows. Hunting had always been an activity of leisure for the privileged few. Ordinary people never had the mean or the opportunity to pursue such an expensive hobby. He smiled at them. His lips curved just to the right angle as he looked into each of them in their eyes with just the barest hint of flirtation. And it was enough to make them shut their mouths. Their eyes glued onto on his retreating form as he steered his horse forward to the assembly area. 

He hadn't thought about participating in the event until he heard about the grand prize that was to be awarded to the winner of the imperial hunt - a wish that was to be granted by the Tsar Plushenko. Despite his very slim chance of winning, the thought having his collar removed and releasing his long-suppressed magic was more than enough for him to take a chance. 

As he got closer to the flock of royal escorts, he wasn't surprised to see Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii by the side of His Imperial Majesty. The pair was a sharp contrast in many ways. Aleksandra was fragile and beautiful with her dark grey eyes and an innocent smile. She was a very talented painter. Her work had been highly praised by many enthusiastic art critics and collectors, who were equally fascinated by her artistic skills as well as her scandalous profession. Dmitrii, on the other hand, was cold and prideful, but no less enchanting. He had a sharp tongue that more than once put prominent people in a tight spot. His poetries had been circulating in all classes of the society, very well known for their metaphors in commentating on controversial topics and current affairs. He was infamous for his temper. On the first night of their debut in the Imperial Court, he made their name by splashing a glass of wine over a Marquis who tried to force himself on Aleksandra in his drunken state. Things could have gone so many ways after such open assault of a member of Imperial Court, but they managed to catch the attention of the Tsar in the resulting commotion. Either out of meticulous calculation or pure luck, it had indeed worked out well for the pair.

Evgeni, who was very much occupied by his new love interests, still paid Yuzuru generous monthly stipends even though he hadn't used his service for a while. How long that generosity would last was anyone's guess. The Japanese wasn't surprised, though. There was only so much entertainment he could provide with go games, tea ceremonies and poetry recitation after all. 

All the free time he had on hand encouraged him to take a look at the Imperial Court as a bystander. Watching how the events unfold in it was an interesting experience. With detachment came with clarity, it didn't take that long for him to see everything as part of one grand game played by His Imperial Majesty.

In a land that was blessed by both the God of West and the God of East, such blessing was its biggest fortune and its most dangerous pitfall. The Imperial Court was perpetually divided by elites who formed alliances based on their religions as well as self-interests. As the Tsar of this vast realm, Evgeni skillfully played a game of pitting each faction against one another.

His domestic policies kept The House of Tarasova, the House of Tutberidze, and the House of Mishin in check, resulting in a delicate balance of power. Each of the houses with their vast amount of resources and networks of supporters had unwittingly become the pillars that supported the throne as they fought each other for supremacy. 

The way he lived his private life mirrored his domestic policies - a wife of Tutberidze blood, then a lover with Tarasova association. When he was bored with this particular one, he moved on to another that was trained under the guidance of Tamara Moskvina, one of General Mishin's long time lover. Just like that, the game perpetuated. Everyone inside the Imperial Court was nothing but pawns on this grand scale chessboard, to be moved around at his whim. And collateral damages such as Yuzuru was not even worthy of being mentioned in the footnote of the history book. 

However, giving up without a fight wasn't exactly Yuzuru's style. Not any more at least. Having the favour of the most powerful man in Russian had many advantages. He was in a privileged position, and he wasn't quite so ready to let it go. 

Given his well-known status of being the Tsar's lover, a small bag of gold coins was enough to persuade the maids and guards to be busy elsewhere in a particular window of time. It was just enough for him to find his way to the older man's bedroom in the Grand Palace, which should be vacant in the middle of the afternoon. 

He had made preparations - the flowy gown that cinched at his waist that the Tsar seemed to be so fond of, a simple gold hairpiece adorned his black hair that the older man enjoyed running his fingers through, and the mental preparation for a long wait until his target returning after the dinner and subsequent party.

Instead, he was the one being surprised.

He knew the room was anything but vacant the moment he gently pushed the door open. Between the gap of the frame and the door, he was given a glimpse of a scene that he wasn't expecting to see. 

The imperial bed was extravagant like everything else that the Tsar owned. Gilded in gold, the king-size bed was draped in elaborate coverings of silk, lace and crochet, piled with large decorative pillows, which were common during the day time. There was no sign of the sleep pillows or soft blankets. Of course, sleeping was probably the furthest thing in the mind of those who occupied this particular bed.

Dmitrii wasn't so cold and prideful any more as he fell apart beneath Evgeni. His thighs were wide open as he begged so prettily between sobs. He desperately sought for the older man's lips while his entire body was shuddering in desire. His finger dug onto Their Imperial Majesty's hips with enough force to leave bruises. 

Evgeni certainly didn't seem to mind, judging by the enthusiastic thrusts he imposed onto the younger man. Certainly not when Aleksandra, who was no longer a picture of perfect innocence as she had tongue skillfully between the cleft of his buttocks. 

Not only the duo made a striking pair outside of the bedroom, but they also worked in complete synch in bed as well, bestowing unimaginable pleasure for the lucky few.

Yuzuru could see the appeal - their contrasting persona between public and private coupled with their well-trained skills was a lethal combination for any man or woman to resist. They were the masters of manipulations, proficient in rousing sense of conquest and achievement. He was hardly a match.

And he had no doubt this was all planned out. Evgeni had somehow found about his plan and staged the whole thing for him to see. As the Tsar came inside his new lover with a groan, his electric blue eyes zoomed in onto Yuzuru. There was a cruel satisfaction in those eyes as they intensified in the post coitus glow. 

Yuzuru quietly shut the door and made his retreat. His steps hastened as he made his ways between the staircases and hallways. He had his head lowered, as he tried to shield himself from the others passing by. He didn't particularly care about where he was going, not when his mind was a jumbled mess. Anywhere but here, he supposed. 

It was until he bumped into another person he finally lifted his head. He mumbled his apologies in Russian before trying to get away. To his surprise, the other man cupped his face between his hands. His callused thumb gently brushed against his tear-stained cheeks. 

It was then he realised that he was crying.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 50 already! 😱

It was that little act of gentleness from a stranger that ultimately broke Yuzuru. Piece by piece, the armour he tried so hard to hold together came apart.

His entire body trembled with his last-ditch effort to hold himself together. He knew he couldn't fall apart here. Not on the open, for anyone and everyone to see. To be spectated like a pitiful joke that he already perceived to be. 

A thick cloak was draped over him. It was long enough to effectively hide him from head to toe, giving him an illusion of privacy. Just like that, the tears burst forth, like an inundation when a dam broke.

A pair of large hands encircled his shoulders, gently steering him away. And in that dimmed world shielded from the outside, Yuzuru blindly followed. He didn't care about anything at that moment, not even where he was being taken to. Their footsteps echoed as they made their way across unknown hallways and staircases. Then he heard the sound of a door being opened and then shut. Before he knew what was happening, he was placed upon a bed. 

In his world, there was nothing but a flutter of voices in his head that filled every available space, calling him a useless fool and a pathetic joke. They were the manifestations of every one of his insecurity, fear and anxiety. One by one, they quickly overwhelmed him. Every part of him felt so raw, so vulnerable against their blade-like sharpness that sank so deep into his heart. All the wounds that he thought that had long healed with ugly scars as the proof had burst open, the deeply infected tissues oozed with blood and pus. 

He felt himself being nestled between a warm body. The arms supported his body weight as he pressed his forehead against a broad chest. The sobs came, shrill and bitter as they ripped through his muscles, bones and guts. 

His hands clutched onto that stranger in desperation. Salty drops fall from his chin, drenching the fabric between them. And that man held him in silence, rocking him gently. Despair and pain came in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses as he struggled for breathing. In those moments, he wondered what he was doing in the arms of a stranger, baring himself like this. But these rare moments of lucidity went away as quickly as they came. Soon he was hurled back into that seemingly never-ending anguish.

His thoughts and emotions were whirlwinds that left him feeling helpless. His every failing, every vulnerability, every weakness was being replayed and amplified. His failure in keeping those he cared for safe, his feebleness in overcoming his own fears and aversions, his inability to control his own fate, and that heart still stubbornly ached for a love that was never meant to be. Everyone and everything he had lost came back to haunt him - Saya, his mother, his father, his unborn child, Javier, his dignity and self-worth. Just look at him now, the descendent of the once formidable Hanyu line, a name that was enough to bring their enemies to their knees. Instead, he was the one his knees, begging for scraps of affection and protection in the only way he knew from a man who was ready to toss him aside like a sullied toy. The fire of shame and anger burnt beneath his skin. Swirls of emotions brewed over and boiled past the seams he could no longer hold together. Just like that, everything fell apart right before his eyes, forming a black hole that forcefully swallowed him whole. 

He had no idea how long he had passed out for. When he regained his consciousness, he felt utterly drained. A hollowness that only existed after all the emotions he kept bottling up inside of him for his entire life was emptied out. And yet there was a clarity in his head. Although his body was sore due to exhaustion, it felt lightened, like a heavy load that he didn't know he was carrying was taken off his shoulders. The pain was still there but in a good way. 

The room was deadly quiet except the rhythmic heartbeat of another human being that echoed in his ears. And this was how he remembered the position he had placed himself in. Carefully, he peeled back the cloak that covered him. The incoming light nearly blinded him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, as his tear-soaked lashes stuck together in clumps. 

It took his exhausted brain a few second to register the man he used as a pillow as he fell asleep - Grand Duke Alexei Yagudin, the older half brother to Tsar Evgeni Plushenko. 

The surreality of this whole thing hit him hard on his face. Yuzuru blushed as blood rushed to his face in embarrassment. He knew he must be a sight in this state - his cheeks blotchy and tight with dried tear tracks, his nose swollen and tinted red from the sniffling, his hair a mess of strands sticking out to all directions with his fringe wet from sweat and tears. He was never trained to cry like most high courtesans - the way pearl-shaped tears silently rolling down their cheeks from wide luminous eyes, a beautiful sight that pulled the heartstrings of the most hardened men and women. 

In his embarrassment and desperate attempt to made up his failing Yuzuru smiled. His lips being forced to a strained curve, one that even made himself wince. And judging by how Alexei frowned upon at his sad attempt, it was less successful than he had hoped for. 

The older man sighed, "Don't... you don't ever need to fake a smile for me."

His Russian accented Common Tongue was so full of gentleness that Yuzuru had to choke back another sob. No one, not even his own parents or Saya, had ever told him that. A smile was a defensive mechanism, a way to show submission or to please. It masked any hurt, anger or humiliation - anything that made him more vulnerable than he already was. This act was one of the many things that he had to learn since birth. Even his family had drilled its importance into him because it was a mask that offered some degree of protection when he had little else. And yet, here was one person, a person he barely knew telling him it was unnecessary.

Of course, he knew who Grand Duke Alexei Yagudin was - the firstborn of House of Plushenko, between the late Tsar Plushenko and his first wife - the daughter of General Alexei Mishin who died while giving birth to him. He had seen the man in passing in the many functions that he was invited to. He had felt his gaze lingering on him, but there was nothing unusual about it. As the lover of Evgeni, he was the centre of attention for many months wherever he went. But beyond that, he knew nothing about this man. 

And yet he was the one who took care of him in his moment of vulnerability, without judgment or loathing. His body language was friendly, with a strange sense of familiarity that unsettled him. It was almost like he had known the Japanese for a long time. It was in the way that he held him, the way he shielded him, and comforted him with his silence. 

"I..." Yuzuru failed to come up with words, so he tried again, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." And this time, the older man smiled at him.

Yuzuru swallowed the lump that had formed in this throat. There were a little embarrassment and indignation of being treated like a child, and yet, there was a sense of relief of being taken care of for the first time in a long time. He tried to collect himself, wiggling himself out of the confinement made by the older man's body. But it was difficult to do so when the Russian was gently dabbing his tear-stained face with a handkerchief like he had the most precious treasure in all realms between his palms. 

The younger man was ultimately saved by a loud growl from his stomach. Clearly, that cry took a lot out of him physically too. Yuzuru didn't think he could blush any harder, but he did. His face burnt as he looked away in horror. He had been nothing but a series of trainwrecks at the front of this man. 

Alexei laughed, as he ruffled Yuzuru's hair affectionately, "How about a nice slice of strawberry sponge cake? Isn't it your favourite?"

Yuzuru's eyes widened in surprise. The shock he couldn't hide clearly amused the other man. He chuckled, "Wait for me here."

As if being put under a spell, Yuzuru nodded his head.

Alexei extracted himself away from Yuzuru and shut the door behind him as he took his leave. In another room not far down the corridor, his personal servant received his instruction with his head bowed low. Once he left the room, the Grand Duke turned around to address the couple who were on their knees before him.

"Well done," He said, his lips curled upward in satisfaction, "Your hard work will be awarded."

Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii looked up at him as their eyes glimmered with joy, "We serve you with loyalty and diligence, Master!" 

Soon, his servant returned with a tray filled with a generous slice of cake, a pot of Japanese sencha* tea as he demanded. So Alexei left the two of them behind, their hands intertwined tightly as they dreamed about leaving behind this life of sexual servitude and seeking happiness together in a land that was far away. 

To his surprise, the room he returned to was void of his object of affection. It looked like his prideful little kitten had taken the opportunity to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note:
> 
> Sencha (煎茶)*: is a type of Japanese ryokucha (緑茶), green tea, which is prepared by infusing the processed whole tea leaves in hot water. Sencha is the most popular tea in Japan.


	51. Chapter 51

Yuzuru contemplated his options once Grand Duke Alexei Yagudin left the room. It took him no time to take his own leave, mortified by everything that had taken place. It was an incredibly rude thing to do, considering the amount of kindness he just received. But that was easily overlooked in his overwhelming embarrassment. 

Misha complimented on his wit later, calling it a wise tactic to entice and intrigue a potential new patron by being unpredictable. But Yuzuru was hardly that sophisticated in the matter of seduction. He was simply too self-conscious to stay there. The silence of the room forced him to reflect upon his moment of weakness, and he didn't like what he saw in himself.

He quickly freshened himself up in the ensuite bathroom. He selfishly kept the cloak that Alexei lent to him. With its hood over his head, it offered him enough privacy from wandering eyes. Instead of returning to his own lodging, he ventured into the woods surrounding Peterhof Palace, eager for a change of scenery.

The afternoon sun had started to set, bathing everything in an orange hue. It was breathtakingly beautiful in its contrast to the vibrant shades of grasses, leaves and flowers that had thrived in the summer heat.

He wandered aimlessly, transfixed by the myriad of fluttering leaves that danced in the high boughs above him and the birds soaring across the sky. Moments like these gave him an illusion of freedom that he always craved. In reality, he was just as confined as he was back in the days, living his life in that dark dungeon. Only now the lock and keys on the door had been replaced by the magic restraining collar on his neck, the burden of responsibilities he had taken on and the ever growing number of masters he had pledged himself to. 

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize how close he had gotten to the magical barriers that had been erected around the palace to stop the wild animals from trespassing into this territory. The first indication he had was a whiff of blood that drifted toward him with the incoming wind.

With all the hunting training he received from Kolyada prior to their departure, he knew he should have turned around, seeking safety in the palace. Instead, he followed the scent. He didn't know what had compelled him to do so, but it was almost as if his feet had their own will. 

His steps were soft and careful as he moved almost soundlessly between the broken branches and soft grass. And there they were - a mama bear with a cub by her side. Despite the wind, she must have gotten a whiff of his scent. She lifted her massive body, pulling herself to her full height on her stocky legs. Her bloody jaws expanded widely as she growled in warning, her sharp teeth glinted against the dulling sunlight. Every one of her muscles tensed with tension as she intimidated. And yet it wasn't difficult to see she was feigning her strength. Her body was tattered, her once magnificent yellow fur matted with blood. Her tummy was torn open with wide gashes that must have come from extremely sharp claws and teeth. The lacerations were severe that they exposed her bloody guts.

As if sensing his presence, the cub that lied still next to his mother perked up. Despite her desperate hisses and growls, he limped his way toward Yuzuru. 

"Pooh - pooh," He squealed. He was tiny, barely the size of Yuzuru's palms. His yellow fur was identical to his mother's, save for the wide strip of red around his belly. His large brown eyes wide and begging as his teeth sank onto the hem of Yuzuru' gown. He used his entire strength dragging the young man forward his injured mother. His steps faltering with his right leg being weakened by a bite that was deep enough to expose the bone. 

Yuzuru's heart softened with pity, so he followed him. Before he dropped to his knees by the mama bear and inspected her wounds closely, he already knew there was nothing he could do for her. Her dark eyes were already drained of aliveness. She was mere minutes away from death door, only being held back by her motherly love - a sheer stubbornness that must be shared by all mothers across species. She reminded him of his own mother, selfless and fearless in her wish to protect her children. 

"I'm sorry, I'm not a healer, and I have no magic. There is nothing I can do." Yuzuru said to the cub apologetically. It was almost as if he was sentient enough to understand his words, the little bear groaned, his voice low and filled with pain as his nuzzled himself closer to his mother, offering comfort. 

Yuzuru tentatively placed his hand on the mama bear. She tried to roll out its way, weary and guarded, but the previous confrontation had drained the last of her energy. The Japanese's palm sank onto her thick fur. He stroked her wounded body in soothing strokes, hoping to make her final moments as comfortable as possible. 

As if finally recognizing his kindness, she used her very last energy to nudge her baby toward Yuzuru's direction with her muzzle, intrusting her child to his care. The cub obeyed her wish and climbed onto Yuzuru's laps. His voice was soft and mournful as he watched his mother closed her eyes, as her massive body went still. 

Yuzuru scooped the baby bear up, his heart heavy with sadness. It wasn't until he stood up he understood the last act of the mama bear. Against the darkened sky, there were eyes that glowed eerily: wolves, the magical kind. There were a dozen of them, lead by an alpha. 

About four times the size of an average wild wolf, the alpha was certainly an impressive creature. It was white as the snow, its fur smooth and shiny. It's blood-caked paws landed softly on the soil, its posture languid and confident as it slowly started to circle around its preys. 

"Pooh..." The bear whined in fear, as it shrunk into Yuzuru. Yuzuru's arms tightened around it, as he took in the scene before him in shock. Suddenly, everything made sense. The mama bear and her cub must have been hunted by the pack. In their desperation, the mother forced her way into the magical barrier set up by the humans despite their magic forces further injured her already weakened body, hoping they would block the wolves out. Unfortunately, the pack followed them, the impaired barrier failed to keep them out. 

He unconsciously stumbled backward before he pulled himself together. But it was too late. The wolf's nostrils flared. As if sensing their fear that hung heavily in the air, the alpha bared its blood-stained fangs in gleefulness as it eyed its dinner. 

Panic filled Yuzuru's head. He was ill-prepared to face these adversaries. He had no horse, no sword, no bow and no arrows. All he had were his bare hands. He knew he would never be fast enough to outrun these wolves. His only hope was to last long enough until the guards noticed the breach of the barrier and sent a team to repair. 

He picked up a bare branch, making it his makeshift sword. He stood on his ground with his new charge sitting on his shoulder, as he and the alpha faced each other. 

The wolf was the one to make the first move. With his adrenaline pumped so high that Yuzuru barely felt its sharp teeth sinking into his right arm. It exposed its soft belly in that split second. Yuzuru took the opportunity and aimed his kick at it with all his strength. The beast groaned in pain as it rolled away, its teeth taking a chunk of his muscle with it. 

The pain didn't deter it at all. The taste of human flesh seemed to excite it further. Yuzuru was less lucky with the second attack. The animal came at him once again. Its massive weight slammed into him. The momentum was enough to knock him backwards, with his entire body being hurled across the ground. His vision swung. It cleared just in time for him to see its mouth wide open with trails of bloody saliva dribbling out of it as the wolf came down onto his fallen form. He instinctively shut his eyes. 

But the pain never came. He tentatively opened his eyes, only to see Alexei's face right above him, instead. His brows creased in pain as he forced on a smile that meant to offer comfort. How the table had turned, it was the older man in a mess this time. Yuzuru watched in a daze as the massive wolf sunk its teeth into the older man's right shoulder. Blood spread like summer rain, quickly soaking through his no longer so pristine hunting gear. 

Yuzuru's heart nearly jumped out in his chest along with a piercing scream as he watched that beast tearing the Russian away from him. In the commotion, half of the older man's hunting armour fell to the ground, along with his sword, bow and quiver. The older man was essentially left to fight for his life with his bare hands.

As their leader took on their new enemy, the rest of the pack watched on about 50 meters away. Their bodies were taut, muscles tense, as they readied themselves whenever their leader gave them the order to attack. In that split second, Yuzuru knew he had to do something, anything. His fate was tied to Alexei's. The moment his protector took his last breath, the pack would swamp in, ready to tear all of them apart with their teeth and claws.

Fear burnt inside of him, and it quickly transformed into anger and rage. Adrenaline flooded every cell in his body. It was almost like he was dunk into a pool of icy cold water. His hands tightened around the abandoned bow and arrow that he picked up from the ground. The collar around his neck burnt like hot lava, blistering his skin. But he didn't care. All he could hear was his own heartbeats, rapid and robust. All he could see was his target, the puny creature that dared to challenge his authority. 

His bare fingers pulled the string so hard that its sharp edge cut into his skin, blood trailed down, coating it red. The weapon glowed icy silver as he aimed, in the exact same shade as the irides of his eyes.


	52. Chapter 52

Alexei watched helplessly as the alpha wolf held him down with its massive paws and bulky form. He knew what was to come next. His muscles tensed in anticipation. But his foreboding didn't soften the blow. Its powerful jaws enclosed onto his right arm a split second later. He felt it acutely as his right humerus bone shattered into fragments. 

The pain was crippling, even for a seasoned warrior such as him. The venom produced by its salivary glands paralyzed him almost immediately as the neurotoxin compounds disabled his nervous system. He cursed himself for underestimating his foe, thinking a little planned suffering would surely be the quickest way to Yuzuru's heart. And now here he was, entirely at the mercy of a vicious animal, his magic being suppressed by a toxin that travelled through his body with every heartbeat.

His vision swayed violently. It was blotched with vivid colours that moved and merged without pattern or design. So when the beast above him disintegrated into tiny particles in a flash of light, he thought it was his brain finally surrendering to hallucination in despair. 

What other explanations would there possibly be, as Alexei' watched Yuzuru or at least a being who resembled the younger man walking toward him, with the Russian's own bow in his hand? Magic filled every available space around them. From the earth beneath him, the grass that surrounded him, the branches above him - every living entity vibrated with that magical force. His heart trembled in awe as well as in humbling fear as he too felt it in every cell of his body. 

Radiating an ethereal glow, the deity who walked in Yuzuru' skin was hardly the emotional mess that sought for comfort in his arms not so long ago. Not in the way he eyed Alexei, the burning gaze of superior being surveilling its mortal subject, dissecting into his soul. The beautiful face that he had engraved into his heart was anything but familiar. It was serenely with otherworldly superiority and aloofness. 

It was the last thing he knew.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was in his own bedroom in the Peterhof Palace, with the healers and servants bustling around him. It was almost like being submerged into deep water, with all of his sense dulled. He was pumped full of all sorts of healing potions, he quickly came to that realization. As a seasoned warrior, he was not unfamiliar with the effects of all those drugs. 

Despite his disorientation, he spotted Yuzuru who sat beside his bed almost immediately. Here he was, his little prideful kitten, willingly staying within his vicinity this time. His heart swelled with satisfaction. 

He tried to sit up and was shocked to find that none of his muscles obeyed his order. He groaned in frustration. Before any of his maids could step forward to assist their master, Yuzuru was the one to prop him up with pillows, after getting him to a more comfortable position.

"Please don't move much," The Japanese said, "Some of the venoms is still being cleared from your body."

"What happened, Yozakura?" The Russian asked. His last coherent memory had been the empty room that greeted him once he returned with a tray of snack for the younger man. Beyond that, there was nothing but non-linear fragments that he couldn't pierce together. 

The Japanese gave him a long look, almost as if assessing him. 

"You have saved us from a pack of wolves and their alpha. I can't thank you enough," Yuzuru replied, after quickly recollecting himself. This was how Alexei learnt about his gallant accomplishment of imposing significant injury on a powerful creature all by himself. The entire wolf pack ran away with tails tucked between their legs after seeing the defeat of their leader. It was undoubtedly an impressive feat as those creatures were known to be extremely dangerous. Only large hunting teams consisted of well seasoned magical hunters would dare to approach them. 

Despite the arm sling and bandages that covered most of his body, Yuzuru was still so beautiful even though he was ashen with shock, pale with worry. His smile was strained, apologetic and grateful. And yet there was something a little out of place about him, something that Alexei failed to pinpoint. He filed it to the back of his head for the time being. For now, he simply wanted to enjoy his kitten's company. 

"Us?" He inquired. His brain slowly made the connection between his fragmented memories and Yuzuru's words. And yet he didn't recall the presence of another person. 

"Pooh!" As if sensing his confusion, the tiny bear cub poked his head out behind Yuzuru. Alexei's eyes widened in surprise. 

"Is that a Winnie Bear?" The Russian beckoned for the creature to come forward so he could take a closer look, but the little creature was shy in the presence of a stranger, choosing to remain behind Yuzuru. There was little doubt in what he saw though - that telltale yellow fur was more than enough. 

Every person, child or adult living in Russia knew about the Winnie Bear. They all grew up listening to the stories of Arkady the Pioneer, the first Tsar of the House of Plushenko and his fierce companion - The Winnie Bear, and all the epic battles that they engaged in together in establishing the realm as they knew. The Winnie Bear was said to be massive, the size of a small mountain. His roars shook the earth, and his paws tore through their enemies as if they were toy soldiers. His distinct yellow coat was so thick that it was virtually impenetrable by any weapon, magical or otherwise. There had been so many stories and speculations about this loyal friend of their legendary Tsar, who disappeared shortly after he passed away. There hadn't been another sighting of him or his species after that. Many even believed that the Winnie Bear was never made of flesh and blood, instead of a manifestation from Tsar Arkady's unimaginably strong magic.

Yuzuru was taken aback by these words. He kneeled down to pick up his new friend so he could take another closer look. He was somewhat familiar with the Winnie Bear. After all, that powerful creature was almost always depicted to be by Arkady the Pioneer's side in stories, plays, paintings and sculptures. But it was certainly difficult to make such a connection, when there was so little resemblance between the two. Not when his Pooh-san was so small that he fitted so nice between his palms and his eyes were wide and innocent. There was nothing ferocious or powerful about his new friend. 

"Surely not, Pooh-san is just Pooh-san," Yuzuru said with laughter. Grand Duke Yagudin smiled too, also seeing the absurdity in his initial assessment. What was a magical creature in that calibre doing with a powerless and magicless courtesan, after all?

Yuzuru left the room soon after, too self-conscious in spending much time with another man in private. Although it was common for courtesans to make friends in high places, it must be done with skill. The Japanese's position as one of the lovers of the reigning Tsar certainly put him under more scrutiny than the others in his line of profession. And being seen with the older brother of their Imperial Majesty would indeed further weaken his already fragile position by their Tsar's side. Alexei understood the harsh nature of the Imperial Court all too well. He was shunned for months after his failed attempt to gain the crown. It took him years to gain back his footing and re-established himself as a prominent force in the realm once again. So he let Yuzuru go, after making sure his injuries were well taken care of. 

It was until he cleared the room, citing the need for rest that Duchess Tarasova finally made her appearance discreetly. After all, if anyone were to spot the two opposing forces in the Imperial Court meeting in secrecy, there would surely be upheavals. 

The talk was brief. None of them was the type of waste their time in pleasantries when it wasn't necessary. They were not friends, after all. But in certain instances, such a person could be more useful than friends. After all, the enemy of an enemy often made the best allies. Common goals and aligned interests could be far more reliable than intangible sentiments such as friendship in their positions.

It took mere hours for the story of Alexei's valiant feat to travel throughout the Imperial Court and then the entire realm. In a land that celebrated heroism, courage and prowess, it certainly boosted his popularity to a new height. People loved heroes and stories filled dramas and climax. And Alexei certainly didn't shy away from taking advantage of his heightened popularity to expand his political influence. 

On the hand other, it also brought in an influx of beautiful men and women looking to be ravished in bed by their new hero. And he thoroughly enjoyed each one of them, and sometimes multiple ones at the same time. 

It was two weeks after the incident, while he was balls deep inside one of his new conquests - a delightful boy with jet black eyes and hairs who meowed so enchantingly as he got his perky ass pounded, that his memory of that day finally came together. The assault, the pain, and the ethereal being with haunting eyes and cold smile, surrounded by an eerie glow of light. His erection immediately went limp, as his body trembled while reliving that exact moment.

He cursed loudly as he pulled out his now softened cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone's eager for the return of Axel. But surely it can't be that easy 😈


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm late, but at least I made it to my weekly update.

Duchess Tarasova paced in her private study with excitement.

She hid it well, as a seasoned courtier and strategist. It was barely betrayed by the slight tremor on her fingertips. Sergei Voronov*, despite his relatively young age, was observant enough to notice it and wise enough kept it to himself. After all, it took someone of extraordinary talent and luck to rise to be the right hand to Tatiana after his formal master, Nikolai Morozov had met his tragic fate. The resulting power vacuum caused a fierce fight within the House of Tarasova, which the Duchess encouraged subtly in her keenness to seek the cream of the crop. 

Tatiana certainly had much to be excited about. She had waited for months for a sign. The last heir to the Hanyu line was certainly masterful in hiding his true nature. With his fragile beauty and seemingly innocent looks, he was practically begging to be underestimated. And yet, underneath it all, there laid a fierce soul, a strong will, and many secrets that were yet to be revealed. 

She had tried to wear him down, through generosity and kindness when he had no one to depend on. Although it worked to some extent, the Japanese was too guarded to be won over so easily. But surely even the most guarded person would have a momentary lapse at some point. And her patience had finally paid off.

Alexei's recount of his adventure certainly seemed to be credible enough. If she wasn't aware of Yuzuru's possible identity, she would have bought the story. But with her long existed suspicion in place, she had no doubt that much of the recount was fabricated. 

When the younger man approached her and expressed his interest in her newest acquisition, she hesitated at first. The Russian's obsession with the boy had always fascinated her. Sure, the Japanese was a beauty, a stunning one made more attractive with his wilfulness and wit. But she doubted Alexei knew how special Yuzuru truly was. 

She had long suspected that much of his obsession stemmed from the years of fierce rivalries that started since his childhood, which was further fuelled by his bitter loss over the Bare Bone Throne all these years ago. All these could be exploited if she planned everything well. 

Having such a prominent man, one supported by the Church of West nonetheless, on their side could prove to be useful. With great risk often came great reward. She trusted the Japanese's ability to bring this man to his knees, given time. And she would never miss an opportunity to create leverage over a useful asset such as Alexei, considering the House of Mishin behind him and its military power. 

The time she had been waiting for was finally here. She knew it as surely as the sun that would rise from the east tomorrow. 

"Search the scene of the hunting incident, leave no stone unturned. I want to know exactly what happened." She turned to Sergei and commanded, "But keep it quiet. Only use those who have earned your trust."

Sergei bowed his head, knowing the time to prove his worth had finally come.

\------------------------------------------------------

Yuzuru stood before his mirror that night, until the first ray of sun breaching the gap between the heavy curtains. He was there for a long time, with his heart filled with hope and an equal amount of dread. 

Staring back at him through the silvery surface lit by candlelight was his own reflection, with his own eyes wide with excitement. But as the seconds turned to minutes, then to hours, the hysteric emotions that coursed through his entire body grew cold, until they solidified like cooled lava. 

Instead of Axel who habitually took on the image of Saya, he saw only himself - a boy made of weaknesses and vulnerabilities. No matter how hard he tried, no magic came forth - neither the one he used to possess nor Axel's. The magic restraining collar worked as it intended, shutting everything down with lines of ancient runes engraved on its back. In his frustration, he tore off the layers of bandages that covered the skin beneath, revealing the ugly wounds and charred skin. He ruthlessly dug his fingers onto them, wincing in pain. The pain was welcomed, a solid proof that what took place not so long ago was indeed real, instead of a hallucination conjured up by his desperate brain.

In those few hours, he went through a rollercoaster of emotions. In the quietness of his own room, he had gone down on his knees and begged Axel, willing to trade his body and soul for magic and power. His body still vividly remembered what it was like to have that much power inside of him, to command at will. For someone who had so little control in anything since birth, it was like a drug. The blissfulness was intoxicating. And yet, there was nothing but silence, other than his own desperate pleading.

When the sun rose above the horizon, he wiped away his tears and put on a smile. He swallowed down his bitter disappointment, like every other time before. It was a well-practised act by now. He had much more immediate problem that he had to deal with. In a place like the Imperial Court, time spent on moping was a luxury he could hardly afford.

As Grand Duke Yagudin's heroic story spread, it was inevitable that Yuzuru's name came up again and again in association. Inescapably, gossips about his relationship to the Imperial Highness surfaced. And when it did, it spread like wildfire. Some people romanticised the entire event, seeing it as the Grand Duke defying the social norm and risking his life for love, even if his intended belonged to his own brother, the most powerful man in the realm. Yuzuru might have been more inclined to believe it if he didn't hear about how busy Alexei had been at juggling his growing number of lovers. Some others criticised his "moral corruption" in serving two brothers at once, an added sin considering his chosen profession. Many even accused him of being a spy from another realm, intending to cause split within the imperial family. 

To rub salt into his wounds, the Tsar grew increasingly distant. Yuzuru found himself been excluded from many important social events as a result. And upon seeing this, many prominent figures in the upper society withdrew their friendship as well. The Japanese had long anticipated this fate once the Imperial Majesty grew tired of him, but nothing prepared him for how quickly it was upon him.

Misha was the one who suggested Yuzuru taking the matter on his own hands. As always, the new addition to the Russian upper society had sharp eyes in seeing where the opportunities lied. He made his name as the one who cultivated Yuzuru. Now the nobles and the wealthy flocked to him for merchandises that were a little different to what they were used to - lovers or whores with exotic features, wicked natures. Each of them was bold and daring in satisfying certain desires that high-class courtesans were often too prideful to provide. Dressed in the finest materials, he mingled in the upper society like he was born in it. Whatever invested he spent on Yuzuru had paid back by a hundred folds in mere weeks, a rich reward for his strong business sense and instinct. And his friendship with Yuzuru remained strong despite the turning of the tides. After all, it was still in his best interest to see Yuzuru's striving in the Russian upper society.

He introduced the owner of Mariinsky Theatre, one of the biggest theatres in St Petersburg to the Japanese. Together, they pitched an idea of a show - an exclusive five nights event that spanned across five weeks to showcase Yuzuru's dance talent. 

"The money is great," Misha said, as he showed him the monetary figure on the contract - a staggering amount of 0's, "And you need the exposure."

Yuzuru quickly saw the wisdom in those words. Being shunned by the Imperial Court pretty much alienated him. With people and their short memories, he was quickly becoming irrelevant. In no time, he would be nothing more one of the hundreds who briefly graced their Tsar's bed. When that happened, he would find himself back to square one, miles away from his goals. He had to use whatever influence he still possessed to find a new patron. Perferably one he could control, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Sergei Voronov*: a Russian figure skater. He is the 2017 ISU Grand Prix NHK Trophy winner, a two-time European medalist, the 2014–15 Grand Prix Final bronze medalist, a two-time World Junior medalist, and a two-time Russian national champion. He used to be trained by Nikolai Morozov before switching to Eteri Tutberidze and Sergei Dudakov in 2013. Tatiana Tarasova used to be one his choreographers.


	54. Chapter 54

The preparation for the show started straight away. It took time though, for things to come together, from the conception of the theme, to the choreography, the costume, the props and everything in between. But it did smoothly. 

Misha purposely leaked the news a little by little, whetting the appetite of the public. And thanks to Yuzuru's association with the two Plushenko brothers, although mostly in a negative context, it certainly worked. The entire upper society was talking about it. Their eager gazes followed Yuzuru, either in curiosity or judgment. Many had seemingly forgotten what the Japanese was capable of on a stage. People were creatures of short term memories after all, the brain with limited capacity filled to the brim with recent scandals and gossips. 

Nonetheless, the tickets to the first night of the show sold out in mere days. And people flocked to the theatre, eager for whatever they believed would take place next - either Yuzuru's triumph or a very public embarrassment. 

Grand Duke Yagudin and those in support of the House of Mishin sent countless bouquets of flowers, unsubtle in their support. And people certainly took notice of it. It was hard not to when every corner of the hallway leading to the auditorium was lined with beautiful blooms of the season. And they didn't miss the absence of their Imperial Majesty either - a further confirmation of the rumoured split between of Yuzuru and the most powerful man of this land. 

Once they made their way inside the theatre, they were surprised found the lavish stage that they were used to seeing was literally stripped bare. A series of raised platform of some sort was erected on the centre stage. They varied in sizes, as well as heights. Some of them were tiny, barely bigger than the size of the palm, and mere centimetres from the floor, while the others were big enough to accommodate 5 people and over 2 meters high. Under the bright chandeliers, their designs were sleek and simplistic, a sharp contrast to the opulent interior of the Mariinsky Theatre. They had no idea what these were, or what these were for, not until Yuzuru gracefully landed on one of them. His left foot stroke down, and it produced a percussive sound that was amplified throughout the entire theatre by the magic produced by the magic stones that were hidden from view. It was loud and clear for every audience to hear. 

Clad in a black, Yuzuru was a stunning sight under the stage lights. Even though he was completely covered from head to toe without a slither of skin shown, but he might as well be naked. The gown he wore was so tight that it completely conformed to his body, clinging onto every graceful line and sinful curve. They were further emphasised by jewels that were strategically placed to highlight his best assets - the long elegant limbs, the tiny almost feminine waist, those perfectly formed buttocks and the well-defined thighs. 

The audiences were transfixed, at first, purely by his beauty. Their eyes followed Yuzuru, greedy and lustful. But before long, their breathing became in perfect synch to Yuzuru's. His every movement was hypnotic, like whispering enchantment right into their ears. Their captivation grew with each passing second. Soon, they found themselves forsaking their own awareness. In summer night, they became one with the Japanese, as he ventured into a world that he created.

In that world, together as one, their breath quickened at the first call of the thunder roaring across the sky, as Yuzuru's left foot landed on the central platform for the first time. The membrane stretched across the shell made of wood vibrated and produced a loud sound that resonated across the entire theatre. These platforms were essentially drums of various sizes. Depending on their constructions and tunning, they produced different pitches and notes whenever a weight landed on them.

Soon, their pace fastened. An immense exhilaration coursed through their veins as their naked feet graced the luscious grasses beneath them. The air was heavy with anticipation. Every tree and every branch moved restlessly in the wind that was gathering momentum. 

The first drop of rain landed on a leaf, as delicate as the jingling sound produced by the bells that were fastened around Yuzuru's wrists and ankles, as they let out a joyous cry as one. There wasn't an orchestra or band. They didn't need any of that, not when themselves was the music. With their every movement, those bells produced crisp and melodious tintinnabulations, which perfectly complimented resonant of the drums. 

Soon, the rain came down in gentle waves, a sweet beckoning serenade. They adored its soothing presence, as it landed in their hair and on their skin. Their movements were light and joyous. Before long, this delicate cascade of trickles transformed itself to violent waves of the ocean, as it splattered across the land. These rapid droplets engulfed them as they ran down from their nose to their chin, before skittering off their arms. 

The sound of this rain drowned out all the noises in this world. Even though the saturated soil softened beneath them, and the weight of their soaked clothes tried to slow them down, their steps gained momentum. They were agile and rapid, perfectly synchronized to the music created as the raindrops landing on the leaves and flowers. 

The pouring rain stripped them bare, from their ambitions, worries, anxieties and endless greed. In a moment like this, however fleeting, they were simple creatures who found joy and beauty in everything that surrounded them. The rain brought out a richness to each hue - from the brown soil, the glossy green grass to the vivid array of colours of the new blooms, each of them was vibrant and brimmed with life. And they became one with the flora and the fauna, the very essence of nature.

When the storm finally slowed, their movement became languid and relaxed. The tempo of drumming eased, and lighter with each passing step. The jingling of the bells became sparse and eventually came to a full stop, as all their movement ceased. 

Waking up for a long trance, the audience blinked. Their eyes were startled by the harsh lights radiating from the chandeliers hanging above their head. Their lashes were still heavy with their tears of joy. The fragrant and distinct aroma of the forest still enveloped them, even though they found themselves between their softly cushioned seats, so disoriented that they couldn't tell the fantasy apart from the reality for many minutes to come. 

Yuzuru made his name that night. He cast a spell on those who were present. And they, in turn, spread that magic onto others through their enthusiastic adoration. The critics were certainly not stingy with their praise, as they exhausted their vocabulary, trying to describe the mystical fae they had encountered. They celebrated him for being technically impeccable and artistically inconceivable. They even compared him to the greatest dancer of the millennium, Johnny Weir, calling him just as sensual and sensitive, but with a rawness and passionate abandonment that even surpassed one of the greatest masters of this art. 

Almost overnight, people's opinion of him took a dramatic turn. Perhaps they too, finally understood how two powerful men became entangled in a web created by this enchanting being. How could they ever blame him for the attention he received? In their greedy hearts, they too dreamed about possessing this beautiful fae for themselves, consequences be damned. The tickets to the remaining nights sold out in mere minutes after their release. Love letters, brimmed with passionate words and sweet promises accompanied by extravagant gifts flooded Yuzuru's residence, as men and women fought for his attention. 

Yuzuru went through them clinically, as he held pooh san in his arms. The little creature playfully nibbled on his finger, trying to distract him as he assessed each of his admirers for their worth - money, status, ease to manipulate. He replied to a few letters with courteous and friendly words, just enough to secure their interests. He went out with selected few for dinners, for a chance to judge their characters in person. However, he always maintained an appropriate distance. He still belonged the Tsar after all. 

Grand Duke Yagudin certainly was the most overt one with his affection. Roses, enough to fill a room, came every day without fail, each accompanied by love letters that brought blushes to his face. He was gracious despite Yuzuru's reluctance in accepting his advances. His friendship remained unwavering. It was certainly strange to see a face with somewhat resemblance to the Tsar adorned with such adoration and care. It was such stark contrast to the cold scrutiny and distant interest that he received from Evgeni. Alexei certainly would have made a decent patron, but Yuzuru wasn't in a hurry to decide this time. After all, people tended to not to cherish things that they gained too easily. 

His second night at the Mariinsky Theatre was just as successful. His final bow on the stage was met with roaring applause that stretched out for minutes long. He took advantage of his newfound popularity and opened up a dance studio in one of the flourishing business districts. Most of his students came from prominent and well-connected families, which gained him a more respected status in upper society. 

One of his high profile students was Evgenia Medvedeva, the daughter of Marquise Eteri Tutberidze. Unlike others who were there to learn a fashionable hobby, the 15-year-old had demonstrated a true passion for the art. Her body was flexible and expressive, her movement precise and graceful. Yuzuru could see her growing to be a class of her own in a few years. 

Misha, however, warned him it was a bad idea to be friends with her. Yuzuru had always been so careful with who he was associated with. Initially, he was very reluctanct in taking her on as a student. But she managed to convince him. The Japanese was so used to be looked down by those in the upper society, he was surprised to be treated as an equal. Her friendship was simple and unadulterated. Politics never played a part in their interactions. For that, he was grateful. Deep down, he craved friendship just like everyone else, particularly a friendship that wasn't motivated by self-interest or ulterior motives. 

He finally understood the true meaning of Misha's words on the day that she had him pinned against a wall. Her soft lips covered his in a passionate kiss as she pressured him to respond in kind.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scroll to the end for the chapter specific warning.

Evgenia Medvedeva's lips were soft and supple. They reminded Yuzuru of newly formed flower buds that were just moments away from their bloom. And yet, they felt so wrong. Their sweetness reminded him of Akiko, of the love and comfort that he thought he possessed under the influences of drugs. And that alone was enough to make him feel nauseous. He gently extricated himself from her. He looked away to avoid seeing the hurt and humiliation that coloured her cheeks. 

Not knowing how to deal with it in any other way, he quickly directed her attention back to their private class like nothing had taken place. A series of complicated movement that she meant to learn indeed served as a sufficient distraction as she dutifully went back to the task at hand. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

If he thought it would be the last of it, he was clearly too naive. If anything, his silent rejection only fuelled her stubbornness. She was very much her father's daughter. The blood of the legendary conqueror - Arkady the Pioneer, ran in her veins too. 

"I love you like no other do, and you will see." She vowed after their lesson while staring directly into his eyes.

Not knowing how to respond to those strong words, Yuzuru swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and took his leave. 

After that, the gifts came. Unlike the flowers and expensive treasures that were sent by her uncle by blood, her gifts were much more personal and thoughtful. Like the bento* she prepared and presented to him in a beautiful sakura pattern bento box. He had every intension to turn it down until he noticed her trembling fingers were covered with numerous bandages. His heart softened, an act he knew he would regret in the not so distant future, as he picked out a clumsily formed onigiri amongst the half charred tamagoyaki** and chicken karaage*** and took a bite under her blinding smile. His momentary weakness was interpreted as hope, and it only fuelled her eagerness. 

He didn't quite know how to explain things to her. It wasn't her love or anyon's love for that matter, he was after. He was selfish in nature. Everything he did was fuelled by his self-interested goals. And she was far too young and too innocent to understand how this game was to be played. After all, he had so little offer other than his body made of flesh and bones, and it wasn't worthy of something as precious as her feelings. He had to put a stop on this before she got hurt. 

So he paused by the door while he on his way to have dinner with Grand Duke Alexei Yagudin. His hand gently caressed the cloak that he never managed to return to its rightful owner, feeling the velvety softness of the material. After a moment of contemplation, he secured it around his shoulders before heading to his carriage. 

As he expected, this act was met with surprise and delight. Alexei's eyes glimmered with joy as he took his hand. Yuzuru knew he had finally set things in motion, with consequences unknown. He was no one but a blind man seeking a path in darkness. And he could only pray that he was taking the right one. 

His third night at the Mariinsky Theatre took place two days later. He was having a chat with the owner of the theatre about additional shows as they made their way to his change room when he spotted Mikhail Kolyada. He paused. The owner was just as apprehensive, he wisely took his leave at that moment. There was only one reason for the head of their Tsar's security team to be on duty, and both of them knew who was behind that door.

Mikhail's face was impassive as he stood guard, impossible to read. Yuzuru's heart thumped inside his chest as he pushed the door open.

Just as he expected, his Imperial Majesty stood before the dressing table. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the scent of white carnations that was displayed in a vase. Sensing his presence, he opened his eyes and casually read out aloud the note that came with the bouquet, "Dear Yozakura, my love will always be as pure as these carnations. Love, Evgenia."

Then that electrifying gaze landed on Yuzuru, who stood frozen not far from the door. Its intensity only exponentiated after he saw what the Japanese was wearing - the borrowed cloak that he had claimed as his own. And the resulting displeasure came down on the younger man like tidal waves.

Yuzuru didn't even get a chance to react before the older man had him dragged across the room. With his back pressing against the dressing table, those hands that used to caress Yuzuru so expertly now had him in a choking hold on his neck. 

"First my brother, then my daughter," The Tsar tsked, "Did you forget who you belong to?"

Yuzuru stubbornly swallowed down a moan, as he acutely felt his windpipe being squeezed. His chest constricted painfully as it screamed for oxygen. Yet, his onyx coloured eyes were just as defiant as the words that he forced out of his throat out of a sheer will, "Just like you did... while being so busy with your new toys."

To his surprise, that brought a chuckle from the Evgeni. His eyebrows raised high as he examined Yuzuru like he had never seen him before, "Clearly, you learnt to grow some guts in my absence."

"Make no mistake," He continued. His voice was cold like sharp edges of his pure rubrum steel sword, as his left hand found its way beneath Yuzuru's gown. His fingers caressed Yuzuru's skin, possessive and domineering, "You are mine. Your body is mine. So is your heart, your soul. Without my permission, you have no right to share any of them with others!"

With that, Evgeni's lips descend upon Yuzuru, effectively swallowing any objections that the younger man might have. 

Yuzuru went rigid with surprise as his body remembered. It was like being awakened from a long slumber, a euphoric warmth quickly spread throughout his body, along with a ravishing hunger. In no time, Yuzuru was breathless against Evgeni. His body trembled with the newly awaken desire, although his heart beat like a hummingbird's for a completely different reason. 

That evening, the Tsar made Yuzuru danced just for him like he promised. 

With a swiping motion, Evgeni cleared most of the dressing table. Various items tumbled down and broke into pieces as they landed on the floor. He pushed Yuzuru up on to the newly cleared surface. The cloak that brought out so much annoyance in him made a perfect makeshift sheet for the younger man to lie on. 

Yuzuru's clothes wasn't a match against those battle-ready hands, they fell apart like a piece of paper. The younger man instinctive shrunk back, his knees pushing up against his chest. But it didn't stop the Russian from grabbing hold of his ankles. He stroked them with so much intensity that Yuzuru thought his skin might light up in flames. 

Those strings of bells that the younger man commissioned especially for his performance were once against secured onto his wrists and ankles. The older man coaxed him into spreading his legs for him, and the Japanese did. These bells jingled melodiously like they did on the stage, as Yuzuru writhed beneath the older man shamelessly. 

His every movement produced music - the arms that reached up and tangled around the Tsar's neck, the buttocks that arched upward insatiably, and the legs that quivered helplessly with each twist of the older man's wrist. Those fingers, with their callused skin and hard knuckles, were ruthless as they rubbed against Yuzuru's inner passage. The tender interior shuddered against their merciless administration, and yet it greedily contracted around them incessantly, practically begging for more as his highly sensitive prostate was stimulated. The resulting melody was erratic, chaotic, euphoric, and very much harmonious to Yuzuru's moaning.

Yuzuru came quickly with an uncontrollable shudder. His body had been celibate in the past a few months. As a result, it was quickly rendered defenceless. His cum splattered across the older man's clothes, as he breathed heavily like he had just run a marathon. 

The Tsar tsked in exasperation. He was still impeccably dressed until this point, not a crease on his clothes or a strand of hair out of place on his head - a sharp contrast to Yuzuru, whose bare skin scarcely concealed by clothes that were nothing more than shreds. Annoyed by his insolence, Evgeni ceased his administration, which gained him a coquettish whine from the younger man. Inside of Yuzuru, the insatiable monster that Evgeni had created reared its ugly head. 

And that clearly pleased the older man. He shushed Yuzuru, "It's OK, I'll make you feel even better."

His voice was deceptively gentle. Yuzuru sighed in happiness, too bliss out to realise what was about happen. He spread his thighs invitingly, eager for something a lot bigger than those fingers to fill him up. 

Instead, the older man's gaze landed on the vast mere inches away, and that beautiful bouquet of white carnations residing inside. At first, Yuzuru was confused. Soon enough, he managed to understand the older man's intention. His eyes widened in panic. 

Just as quickly, he realised he had no say this. Not when Evgeni was holding his penis in a threatening hold. Those electrifying blue eyes held him captive, and Yuzuru froze like a deer caught in the headlights. 

Resigned, he turned his head away. His body trembling like a falling leaf in autumn, as the stem of a white carnation made its way inside his urethra through the opening of his penis. 

His entire body tensed as his cock gobbled up the foreign object. His white-knuckled grip took a firm hold on Evgeni's wrist, which the older man hardly felt. Not when he was captivated by every reaction he managed to elicit from Yuzuru, big or small. In an excruciating slowness, the older man pushed it forward, until only the flower was visible. Then he gave it a slight tug. That was all it took. Yuzuru shuddered and shouted, the muscles of his abdomen rippled under a sheen of sweat. 

Yuzuru was faint with dizziness. The sensation was painful, foreign and yet strangely good. His hand tightened further around Evgeni's wrist like he couldn't decide between the urge of pushing the older man away or begging for more. 

And Evgeni was kind enough to take the decision out his hand. He gently slid it out of Yuzuru to about halfway. The exposed stem was now wet, covered with pearly precum. Then it was shoved back in at full force. Yuzuru threw his head back and screamed, his hips thrusting wildly. His world exploded in colours. And again, and again, and again. The act was viciously repeated until he could do nothing but begged. His lips that were blood red and wet from his own teeth bitting down repeatedly could barely form coherent words. And he didn't care if the entire theatre could hear him at this point.

"Please... please... oh God please..."

The burning stretch was indeed painful, and yet it was so minute compared to the pleasure that overwhelmed him. He could do nothing but take it as it came down on him like tsunamis. Arousal grew inside of him, so deep and raw that it was almost agony as his body pursued the absolute pleasure. It blossomed inside his cock, travelled to his guts, and made its way to his spine before finally taking over his brain. It was debilitating. It rendered him mindless, a primal creature driven by nothing but instincts. 

Yuzuru's every breath was accompanied by a loud moan. He was so close to hyperventilating when the older man finally granted him mercy by pulling the stem out of his penis in a swift motion. He came again with a shout, piercing and loud. It was almost animalistic. Then he sank into darkness as his vision darkened. It was strangely comforting.

The Tsar discarded the white carnation flower that he held between his fingers onto the floor. Its once velvety petals were now bruised and darkened. He draped his own cloak around that naked body, replacing the one that once belonged to his beloved brother. There was a satisfaction in seeing it being reduced to a wrinkled mess that was marred by splatters of cum. 

Like that, he carried the younger man between his arms as he made his way outside the dressing room.

Yuzuru barely registered what was happening. His overloaded brain floated in a space that was between consciousness and oblivion. But soon, His drowsing state was interrupted by all the noise that assaulted his ears and the deathly silence that followed almost immediately. 

He struggled to open his eyes, only to find he was surrounded by people - the audiences who were here for his performance. Their loud protests about the delay were effectively silenced by the unexpected presence of their Tsar. Their eagerness to see their fae was quickly quelled by the most powerful man of this land. Their gazes landed on Yuzuru, heated and disbelieving. Disoriented, the Japanese couldn't help but shrink further into Evgeni's arms. Humiliation ate into him like hot lava.

And that momentary weakness was met with a chuckle from the older man. Those eyes were blazing with emotions that Yuzuru couldn't comprehend. But his voice was cold and taunting, "Did you think you could have the upper hand in this little game of yours?"

Yuzuru shuddered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning: urethral play
> 
> Don't try this unless you have the proper equipment and knowledge 🙈
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> Bento (弁当)*: single-portion takeout or home-packed meal common in Japanese. A traditional bento holds rice or noodles, fish or meat, with pickled and cooked vegetables, in a box.
> 
> Tamagoyaki (卵焼き or 玉子焼き)**: literally "grilled egg", a type of Japanese omelette, which is made by rolling together several layers of cooked egg.
> 
> Karaage (唐揚げ 空揚げ or から揚げ)***: a Japanese cooking technique in which various foods—most often chicken, but also other meat and fish—are deep-fried in oil. The process involves marinating, lightly coating small pieces of the meat or fish with flour, or potato or corn starch, and frying in oil.


	56. Chapter 56

Yuzuru's memory of that evening took residence in a corner of his mind. Those hazy fragments and turmoil of emotions intertwined into a darkness that stubbornly lingered for a long time to come. 

The cloak was a poor replacement for the clothes that the Tsar ruined. Without any of the ribbons or buttons fastened, it was nothing more than a piece of fabric that pretty much advertised his nakedness beneath. It parted not far below his waist, the resulting gap was wide enough to give the crowd a glimpse of his naked thighs. On that milky smooth skin, the sakura flowers bloomed just as vividly as the bruises in the shape of handprints that just started to darken. 

His first instinct was to get away. But it wasn't an option as he was imprisoned between the arms of the older man. In response to his brief struggle, His Imperial Majesty purposely slowed his steps. And that very quickly put Yuzuru in his place. Helplessly, he turned his face away from the gathering crowd. His burning cheek pressed against the chest of his captor, fanatically wishing this was nothing more than a nightmare. 

Every step taken by the Tsar was accompanied by the tintinnabulation made by the bells that were secured around Yuzuru's wrists and ankles. The melodies they produced haunted Yuzuru, just like the eyes of those bystanders. Their heated gazes burnt like a hot iron against his skin. Full of curiosity, lewdness or judgment, they got underneath his skin and crawled like countless tiny insects. Yuzuru was overwhelmed with nausea, and yet he was so emotionally and physically drained to even lift a finger. 

The mere minutes that it took for Evgeni to carry him out of the theatre seemed to stretch to eternity. By the time Yuzuru was in the safety of the carriage, the last energy had departed from him. He closed his eyes, as the world around him faded into nothingness.

He woke up from his short slumber as he was unceremoniously dumped onto a bed. Disoriented, he struggled to sit up. The bedding beneath his hands was thick and opulently embroidered, extravagant just like everything else he found himself surrounded by in a room that he didn't recognise. 

"Pooh!" 

Yuzuru was surprised to find himself a lapful of his friend. His hand sank into Pooh-san's thick fur. He was small, and yet so warm and lively as he adoringly rubbed his nose against his palm. 

Before Yuzuru had a chance to smile, he found his friend being snatched out his hands. He abruptly lifted his head and found himself looking straight at the wry face of Evgeni. 

Satisfied that he now had Yuzuru's full attention, the Russian diverted his gaze to the creature that he held by the neck. Those chubby legs kicked furtively in the arm as the cub growled at him. If anyone could call it that, given how adorable that he looked with his face scrunched up, trying to act threateningly. 

"Is that supposed to be a Winnie Bear?" The Tsar questioned, with one of his eyebrows raised. 

Clearly feeling insulted, Pooh-san took advantage of his monetary distraction and made a struggle. He not only succeeded in getting out from his captor's hold but also managed to sink his teeth onto the fingers that dangled him in the air. 

In pain, Evgeni flung his arm out of instinct. And that was enough to dislodge his tiny attacker. Pooh-san let out a yelp. Yuzuru eyes widened. He quickly leapt forward. All his training with Mikhail paid off. He landed in a heap on the floor without much grace, but he managed to catch his friend before that tiny body slammed onto any of the furniture. 

"Where am I?" The Japanese asked. He was eager to divert the older man's attention elsewhere before the older man decided to punish a creature who dared to offend him. Plus, it was a question that was burning in his brain. 

"My palace, of course. This is to be your new home for... " The Tsar replied, toying with his words as enjoyed the shock that appeared on Yuzuru's face, "... the foreseeable future."

"What am I doing here?" The Japanese asked. He blushed in embarrassment as soon as these words left his mouth. 

"Oh I'm sure we will figure that out together," That gained a chuckle from the Russian. His thumb brushed against Yuzuru's lips suggestively before he took his leave. 

It wasn't a stupid question at all. The Tsar, despite his promiscuous ways, had never kept any of his lovers inside the Palace. He was generous with the gifts and stipends, but never with his favouritism in such manner. And this unprecedented act alone was enough to push Yuzuru's reputation to a new height. The heated gossips and saucy speculations travelled across the entire realm in the speed of lightning, as everyone had their own theories about how the Japanese managed to climb back to the Tsar's bed, not to mention gaining a position within his household - neither feat was achieved until now. Their Tsar was known to be unsentimental and fickle with his affection, after all. In a strange sense of déjà vu, the Japanese found himself being the Keeper of the Spanish Heart all over again, except this time it was a cold, hard Russian heart that he supposedly thawed. 

The Tsar, in his domineering way, ordered to have all of Yuzuru's belongings moved to his new accommodation before making his way to the Mariinsky Theatre. Countless gifts and love letters from the admirers were disposed of. Not even the things Yuzuru purchased himself were being spared. Only those that came from his demanding lover were allowed to be in his new residence. Not that Yuzuru could utter any protest, not when all the things he lost were effectively replaced by items of greater value chosen by the older man. He was grateful that Pooh-san at least made the cut. His Imperial Majesty certainly wasn't shy about demonstrating his possessiveness over his exotic fae, the same way he showed off his absolute ownership at the Mariinsky Theatre, under hundreds of watchful eyes. 

And that message was certainly well understood. The love letters and gifts from Yuzuru's countless admirers ceased to come. Since the remaining shows were cancelled, and Yuzuru's new dance studio got closed down, they could only moan about their losses and admire the beautiful fae from afar. No one dared to risk the wrath of the most powerful man in the realm. 

If Yuzuru thought his humiliation at the theatre was the extend of the Tsar's revenge, he was sadly mistaken. His Imperial Majesty had indeed found things for him to do in the Palace. Namely, his newly assigned role as an Imperial Attendee*, at the service of their Tsarina Yulia Lipnitskaya. It was a position that effectively silenced anyone who might have an objection against him taking up residence inside the Imperial Palace, as it was common practice for some of these attendees to remain in court all the time, attending to Her Imperial Majesty's every need.

Generally acting as secretaries, courtier and companions to their Tsarina, the duties of Imperial Attendees varied greatly, depending on the ranks being held. They ranged from bathing, dressing, entertaining their Tsarina to assisting in the running of her household. Given the gender of the current imperial consort to their Tsar, her attendees were expected to be women of noble origin. Hence Yuzuru's appointment certainly raised many eyebrows. Many conjectured that the courtesan had a hand in this, killing two birds with one stone - gaining legitimacy inside the Imperial Palace, and boldly flaunting their Tsar's affection at their Tsarina's face. 

While Her Imperial Majesty remained remarkably dignified in the face of her husband's transgressions, her fellow attendees were more than eager enough to take upon themselves to make his life difficult while hiding their smug smiles behind their fans. Yuzuru found himself reverting back to his roles on The Wanderer - running errands, cleaning the bathrooms and private quarters for those higher ranking ladies. At least, the skills he learnt so painfully came to some use. 

He often found himself on duty on those nights that the Tsar came to visit his wife's bed. He stood awkwardly amongst the ladies. Many of them looked longingly at bedroom, while they listened to the groans and moans emitting from behind the closed door. Perhaps out of his sense of duty to his wife, or the desire to produce more heirs, Evgeni showered his wife with his cold affection once a week. Never staying the night, he took his leave once the deed was done. 

As the door to their Tsarina's bed chamber opened, the fellow attendees waiting outside bowed to His Imperial Majesty. A few subtly adjusted their dresses to ensure their ample bosoms were on display, hoping to capture the eyes of their Tsar. They were right to be hopeful. After all, there had a few who succeed in this way in the past. But the Tsar ignore them all. His sharp gaze briefly landed on Yuzuru who dutifully had his head lowered, before ordering a carriage to Nevsky Prospekt, where his other favourite courtesans Aleksandra Boikova and Dmitrii Kozlovskii resided. Mikhail's face was impassive as ever. However, those blue eyes held sympathy as he walked past the Japanese. Yuzuru briefly closed his eyes. While it brought warmth to his heart, somehow, this gesture of kindness was a lot harder to swallow than all the humiliations he were subjected to. 

After Yuzuru fetched the bath water for their Tsarina, the attendees of senior rankings assisted Yulia in her bathing. The Japanese stayed behind to open the windows to refresh the air, and replaced the soiled sheets that smelt strongly of sex with another fresh set. 

He ignored those looks of smugness and amusement as these ladies took their leave. The Japanese was silent as he attended to his tasks. His movements were precise and focused. Those looks of gloat and loath collided onto his skin, leaving yet another set of scars. But he had long learnt to ignore them since his time in Canada. When he had absolutely nothing else, he could at least count on his well-practised skill of feigning indifference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:
> 
> Imperial/Royal Attendee*: similar to lady-in-waiting or court lady, but a gender-neutral term since people taking upon the role was not always female in this universe, given the Imperial/Royal consort was not always female. They were assistants at a court, attending on royals or high-ranking nobles. They were often nobles themselves, but of lower ranks than the ones they provided their service to. They were usually the same gender as the one they attended to; hence Yuzuru taking up the role was unconventional.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit sad that I broke my weekly update streak last week, but real life was brutal. I'm glad to be back with a new chapter. Thank you for all kudos and comments that I received despite my absence. Love you all! ❤️

Growing up, Grand Duke Alexei Yagudin had lost many things to his younger brother. Toys at first, their father's attention next, then ultimately the Bare Bone Throne, just to name a few. 

Despite being the oldest son of the late Tsar, he was never appointed as the heir apparent to the Russian Empire. Her mother, who failed to serve her husband and her country by dying whilst delivering him to this world, was soon forgotten along with the first-born. The late Tsar wasted no time and found himself a new Tsarina to produce more children. That man who never presented in his life beyond the Imperial functions that they both attended, purposely alienated him. Perhaps it was driven by the inherent uneasiness about the power Alexei represented - the enormous military might of his maternal grandfather General Mishin and the House of Mishin that stood behind him. 

Alexei, too stubborn to concede to the fate that was prewritten for him, continued to fight - power, prestige, his rightful place in the Imperial Court. And yet, it seemed that the Gods had always favoured the other man. Losing Yozakura to his younger brother was just another one to be added to the tally.

He would have made peace with that, eventually, like he did many times before. But his eyes and ears within the Palace informed him of the humiliating predicaments that the younger man was in, and he couldn't help but ache for his beautiful night sakura.

Alexei had seen the Japanese himself at some of the events that they both attended. Always afar though, he was too afraid that his presence would further compromise Yozakura in his difficult situation. His mind stubbornly held onto the image of the boy at a night that they shared dinner together not so long ago. His night sakura with his cheeks dusted pink with shyness, looked so beautifully dressed in the cloak that he had then claimed as his own. The Russian still remembered the excitement that he could barely contain. He longed for the day when the younger man was finally free from his arrangement with the Tsar. He would be his then, clad with nothing but his cloak on his bed, waiting to be ravished. And he would treat his fae like the treasure he was, worshipping every inch of that bare skin, until he replaced all that marks left by the Tsar with his own. 

And now, that image was shattered. The young man who stood before him was barely recognisable. Plastering on a perfect smile, and yet wariness reeked between the impeccable facade that Yozakura tried so hard to pull together. Alexei knew full well that it was sheer pride that kept the Japanese' back straight and head raised high. It was almost like looking at himself through a mirror. 

Perhaps it was when Yozakura ceased to be a mere an object of his lust, an obsession that stemmed from another loss that he suffered in that distant past. Fated and destined, like the God of West had personally carved that presence into his heart, he was truly his from that moment onwards. And that attachment only grew stronger with every second ticking by. 

"You can't be drawn to him because he reminded you of her, and yet punish him for the very same reason!" The Grand Duke tried to reason with his brother, indignant on behalf of his beautiful fae. Yet deep inside, he knew how futile it was. All he did was showing how much he cared for the Japanese, exposing a weakness that Evgeni wouldn't hesitate to exploit when the time was right.

"He was mine to do as I wish, like she was." The Tsar only laughed. His words far crueller than his rubrum steel sword he kept by his side, "He chose me, just like she did, after all." 

Alexei bit down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. His heart was full of fury and quite a bit of anticipation. His arrogant brother failed to see the creature that he thought he could toy with was hardly a kitten. When the time was right, that graceful feline would show the world his magnificent furs, sharp teeth and deadly claws. After all, a lion would only be able to hide its true nature for so long. And Alexei would patiently wait for that day to come, ready to offer his allegiance. 

\--------------------------------------------------

So Yuzuru's life in the Imperial Court continued, often with time spent on his knees, scrubbing the floors clean with his bare hands. His expensive gowns soiled by the dirt and cleaning concoctions that were meant to dissolve the grime. Yet he kept his head high, his body language upright and proud. 

He decided that if he had to suffer, he was going to do so in style. He made sure he wore something new every day, each one more extravagant than the last one he paraded the day before - the most delicate silk from China, diaphanous as the wings of a cicada; the black pearls from the deepest ocean of Tahiti where the sunlight never reached its seafloor; the elaborate hairpieces in the shape of sakura branches made by the finest jewellers, with flowers that looked so real that their pedals literally swayed with each of his movement. The Tsar was a generous patron. And Yuzuru was more than eager to show that generosity off, for the simple pleasures of seeing those Imperial Attendees' faces twisted into ugly scowls in both jealousy and rage. His Imperial Majesty didn't care. He indulged Yuzuru's pettiness and sent over more gifts as ammunitions. 

The bullying escalated. Some days, it took all of Yuzuru's energy to contain his anger, knowing he could singlehandedly break all their fragile necks with his bare hands as he stood on the hallway of the Imperial Place like a drowned rat after one of his fellow Attendee's "innocently" tipped a bucket of water over him. The soaked fabric clung onto his body, the resulting sheerness left very little to imagination. His unfortunate state quickly drew a small crowd. People were curious about the "assets" possessed by their Tsar's favourite whore, after all. 

Mikhail who happened to walk by wordlessly removed his cloak and draped it over Yuzuru, reserving the last of his dignity. The Japanese gave him to a grateful nod. He didn't trust his voice, not when he was so focused on reigning his emotions in. It was only much later when he was in a private training session with the head of the Tsar's security team that he allowed his emotions to run rampant. His punches and kicks packed on full force, unleashing all the anger that he had held inside. It had since grown like an unruly wildfire, entirely out of control. Mikhail wordlessly took on his uninhibited outbursts and pushed him harder than ever, until Yuzuru collapsed into a graceless heap by his feet, his head cleared as his body gave in to the exhaustion. 

But for now, Yuzuru had no choice but to keep himself under tight control. He didn't try to get away quickly, too stubborn to give them satisfaction. Instead, he made sure he caught the eyes of Adelina Sotnikova*, the Head of Imperial Attendees, who surveilled them from the floor above haughtily. He gave her a perfect bow that was expected of a person in his position, before taking his leave with his head held high. His steps were brisk yet unhurried. 

The Japanese just had enough time to have a quick shower and change into a fresh set of clothes, before making his appearance in Tsarina's bed chamber to get Her Imperial Highness ready for her day. Yulia was already up, sitting by her dressing table in her nightgown. 

"How would you like to be dressed today, Your Imperial Highness?" Elizaveta Tuktamysheva**, the first-class Attendee from the House of Mishin, inquired their Tsarina as usual. 

"I think that green dress well do. It matches your beautiful green eyes, Your Imperial Highness." Adelina Sotnikova decided in Yulia's place. 

One of the junior Attendees hurried to find the said dress before presenting it to Elizabet Tursynbayeva***, the first-class Attendee from the House of Tutberidze, who then took it to their Tsarina for inspection. Yulia barely had a chance to glance at it, before Adelina nodded to give her approval. Then all the senior Attendees came forward to assist in Yulia's dressing. The rest of them remained at their posts, offering their assistance when their superiors demanded it. They were considered too low in ranks to approach the Tsarina unprompted. The same process was repeated for the jewellery to be worn for the day, the appointments to be kept, and the meals to have, no input required from Yulia at all. 

Just like a beehive, Tsarina Yulia Lipnitskaya's side of the Imperial Court ran on strict hierarchy, with each member falling in line according to their ranks and roles. Virtually a mirror of her husband's side of the court, every prominent house had their interest represented in it. Despite Yulia's eminent social status, she was hardly the queen bee. Adelina Sotnikova, as the Head of the Imperial Attendees appointed by the Tsar, ran their Tsarina's life in every aspect, making her the most powerful figure in Yulia's inner circle. It didn't take that long for Yuzuru to realise that in this gilded cage, their Tsarina was nothing more than the most prized trophy that symbolised the union of two influential sources of power. 

There she was, dressed in the finest gown and the most ornate jewels of the land, with her beautiful seafoam green eyes and perfectly curled blond hair - the perfect puppet to be manipulated. And yet, Yuzuru saw beyond her compliance and resignation. In her eyes, under layers of pretence and indifference there laid something else - specks of defiance and ambition. 

And that, Yuzuru thought, was precisely what he was looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Adelina Sotnikova*: a retired Russian figure skater. She is the 2014 Olympic champion, a two-time Europeans silver medallist, and a four-time Russian national champion. She was coached by Evgeni Plushenko, amongst others, before her retirement in 2020. 
> 
> Elizaveta Tuktamysheva**: a Russian figure skater. She is the 2015 World champion, the 2015 European champion, the 2014–15 Grand Prix Final champion, a 13-time medalist on the Grand Prix series, and the 2013 Russian national champion. She was the first female skater to land four triple jumps in a short program, and maximum twelve triple jumps in one international competition. She is currently coached by Alexei Mishin.
> 
> Elizabet Tursynbayeva***: a Kazakh figure skater. She is the 2019 World silver medalist, the 2019 Four Continents silver medalist, and a three-time Kazakhstani national champion. Having successfully landed a quadruple salchow at the 2019 World Figure Skating Championships, Tursynbayeva is the first female skater to land a quadruple jump in the senior competition. She is currently coached by Eteri Tutberidze.


	58. Chapter 58

Approaching Tsarina Yulia Lipnitskaya was a lot easier than Yuzuru had anticipated, despite his low rank. Like any woman who was privy to her husband's indiscretions, she held somewhat morbid fascination toward her husband's lovers. And Yuzuru happened to be within her proximity, right there to stir up her curiosity. 

The first time she called upon on his service was about a month after he took residence inside the Imperial Palace. That night, the ladies were bored. Things had been slow in the court. And there was only so many gossips that they could share about the infamous Aleksandra and Dmitrii duo, and their scandalously extravagant lifestyle and supposedly sexual mastery. In a moment of dullness, their sights landed on Yuzuru. 

As a result, the Japanese found himself holding a pile of cheaply made clothes. He was commanded to dance, while his fellow Attendees accompanied their Tsarina indulging in their nightcaps. Skimpily made, the sheer gown featured low cut v neckline that reached his navel and a side slit that went up as high as his waist. If they expected him to entertain them like a cheap tavern whore, flaunting his skin to capture the attention of potential customers, they were sadly mistaken. The Japanese had gone through so much in his life to be fazed by such cheap tactic. 

Yuzuru danced, transforming himself into the fae who many of their lovers and husbands lusted over. Without an ounce of shame, he flaunted his captivating beauty. The sakura flowers blooming on his skin glowed hypnotically under the chandeliers hanging above their heads. They wanted to see, so he gave them something to see. He cast a web of spell over them, stunning them into silence. In the end, they applauded him, reluctant and hesitant. They only dared to do so after stealing a few furtive glances at Adelina Sotnikova. Her facial expression was unreadable as she clapped a few times. 

It was the night that Yuzuru had firmly captured the attention of Yulia. She asked for him, often just for him to run errands for her - fetching books, snacks and serving her afternoon tea. Yuzuru supposed there was satisfaction in having one of her nemesis under her thumb. 

Adelina saw no issue in this new arrangement. After all, despite Yulia's official title, she had very little influence over her subjects in this vast palace. It was clear that her pent up frustration required an outlet, and Yuzuru happened to be a perfect one. He clearly wasn't someone of significance. Any harsh treatment would hardly result in any political backlashes. 

Any speculation about Yuzuru's hold on their Tsar's heart faded as soon as they started. In this gossip mill, everyone was well aware of how His Imperial Highness spent his leisure time and whose companies he sought after. And Yuzuru's bed obvious held little allure, as it had not served its purpose after the Japanese acquired a room in the Palace. It was clear as daylight that the Tsar didn't have much interest in this one, beyond punishing him for his repeated act of insolence.

Yulia was a very different person in private. Away from her entourages, who ran her life in every aspect, she let her frustration show. Her perfect facade fractured, as a silent storm brewed. She was temperamental and demanding toward the only person she had power over in this vast palace. This was how Yuzuru found himself catering to her every whim. Throughout the day, he prepared her tea for over ten times in a roll, as his Mistress found fault in each of his attempt - too hot, too cold, too milky, too sweet, too bitter. Then he was made to sort and resort her vast collection of books, jewellery, and clothes until she was satisfied. His day often ended with him cleaning the floor after she "accidentally" flung an entire tray of snacks off the table. Yuzuru withstood her temper, bidding for his time, scheming for a way to win her confidence.

There was only one man in this Palace who saw his plan, amongst the courtiers who took backseats and enjoyed this show while wagering bets on how long it would take for Yuzuru to crumble. Even Misha was worried, eager to counsel him on the importance of crawling his way back Evgeni's bed. Clearly, Yuzuru's fallen status inside the court had impacted the Russian's standing in upper society. 

"Beg for his forgiveness. Shed tears about how lost you are without his affection," The older man lectured him, amongst other things, "This is your only way out of this mess."

It had mostly fallen on deaf ears. If the Tsar could be satisfied with his fabricated submission that he had presented, he would not be at this position today. He had no idea what His Imperial Highness was seeking, but that cheap pretence was certainly not it. Although it was fascinating to hear about the useful tactics to another's heart both on and out of bed from a master of such craft. The Japanese had no idea there were so many finesses outside the art of blow jobs and sexual intercourse - the angle to curl his lips, the degree to lower his eyes, the masterful ways in achieving that perfect balance of shyness and flirtation that would capture any man or woman's heart. 

Surprisingly it was Mikhail who saw pass his facade of enduring submission. Perhaps it was because he was the rare few who had a glimpse of Yuzuru inside the masks he presented to the world. The Russian had seen him at highs and lows and experienced his stubbornness to excel first-hand many times. 

"Whatever you are planning, you are playing fire," The Russia warned him during one of their training sessions. 

Breathing hard, Yuzuru pushed himself up from the ground once again. Despite all the bruises that were surely forming all over his body, he got himself back into a fighting stance. 

Smiling sorrowfully, "What choice do I have?"

Mikhail sighed in sympathy. He knew how cruel the world they both lived in could be. Kicking a person when they were already down was the norm. His heart ached for Yuzuru, whose eye rims reddened with unshed tears. 

And that was the exact opportunity Yuzuru had been waiting for. The Japanese let out a battle cry as he charged forward. His sword clashed forcefully with Mikhail's. The momentum was enough to cause the older man to stumble. Caught by surprise, the Head of the Tsar's security team didn't get a chance to block the second incoming blow. For the first time, Yuzuru was able to land his sword right next to Mikhail's neck. Its sharp edge was mere centimetres away from his pulsing artery. Breaking into a triumphant smile, Yuzuru's face brightened with excitement. 

The Russian scowled, silently cursing his carelessness. But Yuzuru's fleeting happiness was infectious. It was a rare sight in this bleak time, and he couldn't help but also laughed out. 

Yuzuru was almost sorry for taking advantage of his trainer's momentary softened heart, and yet he wasn't. He didn't want pity. Especially not from Mikhail. The armour he had painstakingly constructed once again on himself withstood the trial of hardship and humiliation, and yet it was vulnerable to kindness - a weakness he couldn't afford to have. He had no trouble deciphering the emotions that surfaced in Mikhail's eyes. Beyond the sympathy and kindness, there were flecks of affection - a small flame that he could easily cultivate to a wildfire. To have the devotion of someone who was in the Tsar's inner circle would be highly advantageous, and yet Yuzuru didn't have the heart to acquire it. He could almost see the scolding look on Johnny's face. To his dance teacher, the Japanese was undoubtedly a disappointing and unteachable student. He needed every bit of support he could salvage in this place, after all. 

\---------------------------------

It was a rare sight seeing Duchess Tatiana Anatolyevna Tarasova appearing timidly. The woman held considerable influence in this realm, after all. Yet, the man before her, Alexander Lakernik*, was the hidden hand that steered this land in the dark. Occupying the second chair in the Council, he wielded unimaginable amount of power and influence in this world. And Tatiana was one of the rare few who had the privilege of being in his presence. 

The man with striking white hair that reached his chin tapped his finger on the table rhythmically, as he listened to Tatiana recounting what she had discovered on the hunting ground where the wolf attack took place. Her reconstruction of the event was reasonably close to the truth, backed by the remnant magical signature that was discovered. The only aspect missing was the source of such immortal power. Tatiana knew better than to draw a conclusion based on limited evidence. 

"We are certainly at a predicament," There was a long moment of silence after she had concluded her narration. The man was deep in thought before he finally commented, "If Yozakura turns out to be Yuzuru from the Hanyu Clan, we would be seen as harbouring a fugitive."

"Yuzuru Hanyu is certainly dead, as Japan had assured everyone with a dead body as evidence," The Duchess said, "We would not be at fault for harbouring a person who doesn't exist."

The older man smiled wryly, "You and your family are still devoted to bringing back your God. That tenacity is to be commended."

Tatiana smiled despite the panic that was quickly rising inside of her. This was the man who would decide the fate of Yuzuru with a flick of his finger, "The balance of this world needs to be restored. The influence of the western realms with the support of their God has grown far too strong. America's rising threat to Russia is testament to such imbalance."

That brought a smile on Alexander's face. Tatiana always knew where to aim. That shrilly American woman who occupied one of the thirteen chairs needed to be reined in. He could hardly sit idly as she continued to challenge his authority in the Council with startling arrogance, "And I'm sure your feud with the Tutberidzes has nothing to do with this."

The Duchess feigned her embarrassment as she lowered her head, and yet she knew she had him right where she wanted him to be.

"I'll meet the boy, before deciding on our next course of action," Just as she expected, Alexander was persuaded. She had managed to buy some time for the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life:
> 
> Alexander Lakernik*: Vice-President of ISU, representing Russia. 
> 
> I may update [Like Oil and Water, We Collide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816490/chapters/60022708) next week instead. Just realised the last chapter was posted exactly 3 months ago. 😱

**Author's Note:**

> Please feed the author by leaving comments and kudos if you enjoy the story.
> 
> Find me on twitter [@karenkk_axel](https://twitter.com/karenkk_axel?lang=en)


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